


The Art of Saying Bye

by michaely



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Romance, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Issues, Jimin is...fun lol, Jin is Jungkook's big bro, Jisoo and Jin WERE a couple, Loss, Moving On, POV Jeon Jungkook, RM and Rosé are also a couple :), Recovery, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, because I'm more familiar with Japan than Korea, former Jennie and Lisa couple, set in tokyo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29657172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaely/pseuds/michaely
Summary: Life is about choices and consequences, actions and reactions. Love isn't nearly so simple.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Lalisa Manoban | Lisa
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever story in this fandom. I do hope you will enjoy. I haven't touched real-life fandoms until now, but I was inspired after watching this fanmade MV from Liyon Shi https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfWlteNUcOw
> 
> I do have to admit I'm not the kind of fan who watches each and every single interview or variety show appearance from these two, so I'm not quite as studied on what are their "real" personalities. I tried not to go too outrageous in terms of their characters. I think they're both presented as level-headed and down to earth. I had a friend of mine who isn't at all familiar with K-pop read the first couple chapters I've written, and she says she finds the characters to be believable. 
> 
> RM and Rosé are intentionally hammy, but for entertainment purposes only lol.
> 
> "You Exist In My Song" - Madison Marigold https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t66uBHXoa9w  
> "Bye Bye" (Gravity Sessions version) by Gryffin ft. Ivy Adara https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OnUMmEhZrw

I woke with a start that morning. It was the insistent buzzing of my mobile that did it. My eyes had yet to fully adjust to the midday sun pouring in through the open blinds of my window, but I guess I should’ve known who it was before I even looked at the caller ID. Whenever he called, the vibration always seemed more aggressive than usual. I clamped my hand down atop the device before it rattled its way off the particle board top of my nightstand.

I brought the phone to my ear and croaked out a “Hello?”

“Still sleeping?” My father had this uncanny ability to make even the most mundane line of questioning sound like the Spanish Inquisition.

“Not anymore,” was my dry reply.

“Madelaine’s recital is at 1:00.”

I sat up in bed, regretted it immediately, as my head felt like it weighed about a ton. “You gonna be there?”

“I’m still in Shanghai,” he explained, matter of factly. “Contract talks are taking longer than expected.”

Funny how these contract talks abroad never seemed to stay on schedule. But I kept that observation to myself.

“The driver is picking you up in 20 minutes,” he went on. “Don’t forget a tie.”

A monotonous beep rang out as he hung up.

“Good morning to you too,” I muttered to no one in particular. As the call disconnected, I took note of the date displayed on my phone’s calendar. Yeah, I guess he had a reason to be crabbier than usual.

I spotted a half-empty bottle of Kirin lager near the lamp. To ease the scratchiness in my raspy throat, I took a sip, regretted it immediately as it tasted of warm dishwater. Immediate regret was quickly becoming the theme of the day.

The pitter-patter of bare feet against the hardwood floor caught my attention next. Victoria walked out of the bathroom. She had already gotten dressed again in her crimson satin blouse and black miniskirt. She was putting back on her earrings in the shape of crescent moons as she approached me.

“Your dad?” she asked.

“How’d you guess?”

“Whenever he calls, you always get that face.” She pointed her index finger at me. “Like you just poured yourself a bowl of Lucky Charms but then find out the milk is spoiled.”

I let a sly chuckle escape my mouth. “Yeah, he’s got that effect on people.”

“Well, I made some coffee, in case you think it’ll help.” She slipped her feet back into her Christian Louboutin patent leather pumps which had been left by the sofa.

“You’re taking off?”

“I’ve gotta get to Ginza. Playing a new venue tonight, and they need to do sound check.”

She worked as a singer. Most of the time it was at bars of swanky downtown hotels. Her audience was typically either native Japanese who wanted to rub shoulders with an exotic gaijin or foreigners who were seeking some familiar comforts of home. She had actually amassed quite a fanbase among the weirdly specific demographic of late forties traveling salarymen. I personally thought she was pretty talented in her own right, but I’m sure the experience of watching her on stage was enhanced all the more by a few Stoli Gibsons.

She hung her Kate Spade purse over her shoulder and walked back over to bedside. She sat down on the mattress next to me and let her emerald eyes linger on mine for a moment. After swiping away some errant blonde bangs from her brow, she placed a kiss on my forehead. She never kissed on the lips the mornings after.

“Happy birthday, babe.”

* * *

On this September afternoon, the illustrious Suntory Hall was buzzing with activity. The scene could be summed up in equal parts excitement, nerves, and flop sweat. In other words, the space was filled to the brim with early teens. 

One of them was my stepsister, Madelaine. I called her Mads for short, a nickname she appreciated as a fan of Casino Royale. She ran up to me as I was slipping my right arm into the sleeve of my navy suit jacket.

“You’re cutting it a little close,” she stated.

I swallowed the last bite of my salted salmon onigiri. “I had to stop for lunch.” I washed the food down with a gulp of orange Ramune. “Besides, the real stars are always fashionably late.”

“What fashion?” She regarded me with a cocked eyebrow. “You forgot your tie!”

I looked down to check my outfit. Black wingtips, check. Navy dress pants with matching jacket, check. Starched white dress shirt, check. But the tie?

“Fuck,” I mumbled.

“It’s fine,” said my stepmother Lorelei as she stepped toward us. “Your father told me to come prepared.” She retrieved a skinny black tie from her handbag.

Lorelei had been a tennis prodigy in her day. She went to Stanford on scholarship and was close to qualifying for the US Open before getting pregnant. The dad had left the picture a long time ago. When my father met her, she was a single mom trying to make ends meet as an instructor at the country club in Encino. All in all, I respected her very much. She wasn’t like most other women who married into money. She became even more dedicated to her family over time, was a faithful and diligent partner to my dad, an attentive parent to Mads and even tried her best to accommodate my own bumbling, disjointed self.

“Thanks.” I took the tie and tried my best to weave it around my neck. I turned my attention back to Mads. “Why are you so on edge anyway?”

She reached behind her head and pulled tighter her ponytail, her hair the color of New England leaves in autumn. “I’ve been listening to Hayashihara during rehearsals. She’s got a vibrato that sounds unbeatable.”

“Dude, I heard Hayashihara last year too. Girl’s all flash, no substance, doesn’t have a lick of believability in her lyrics.”

“Well, the judges aren’t just three clones of you, so I’d say there's still reason to worry.”

Lorelei felt it appropriate to step in with a gentle reminder. “Remember the most important thing is just to have fun.”

“Mom, I told you,” Mads protested with a roll of her olive-green eyes, “There’s a plan for everything. I win this today, get a scholarship to Julliard, headline Carnegie Hall, then ask Seo In-guk to marry me. Having fun doesn’t fit anywhere in there.”

Lorelei could only laugh quietly to herself.

Mads finally noticed my continued struggles with the tie, as I couldn’t manage to make both ends the same length. “Would you stop fucking around? Come here.”

I shot her a sideways glance but eventually decided to do as she asked and knelt in front of her. With a shockingly deft hand did she tidily fold my tie into a neat Windsor knot.

“Do I have to do everything for you?” she asked, punctuating with a discontented groan.

The voice of a female stagehand rang through the hallway. “Five-minute warning! Curtains up in five minutes!”

Mads looked back to me. She held up her fist in our customary “pump up” ritual. “We got this?”

I clasp both hands sturdily over hers. “We got this.”

* * *

“The next performer,” the MC announced over the speaker system, “Representing Toyo Eiwa Jogakuin, Madelaine Reid.”

The attendees in the Blue Rose hall greeted Mads and myself with the perfunctory smattering of applause. I made the final adjustments to the tuning of the acoustic Gibson sitting across my lap, then started plucking the intro. As the warm glow of the spotlight settled on her, I could see her drawing a deep breath and holding it deep within her chest. It was her tried and true technique for handling stage jitters. She’d let the fear sink in, but only until the count of five.

One.

Two.

Long enough for her body to get acclimated to having it around, but not long enough for it to take over completely.

Three.

Four.

She released her breath at a slow, measured pace.

Five.

By the time she opened her eyes, she had started in on the opening lines.

_“Meiyou you yi diandian fangbei, ye meiyou yisi gulu,_

_Ni jiu zheyang chuxian,”_

Then came the voice that I knew had all the ability to win this competition. Soothing and harmonious yet firm in the conviction of its message.

_“Zai wo de shijieli,_

_Dai gei wo jingxi,”_

Looking out into the audience, I spotted Lorelei making a recording on her phone. I found myself wondering when my dad would start looking at our lives with his own eyes, not just through the lens of a camera.

_“Qing bu ziyi.”_

* * *

As Mads emerged from the backstage and into the general lobby, she was met with spirited applause, something more appropriate for the quality of performance she just put on. Carrying a bouquet of white roses in one arm and the first-place trophy in the other, she beamed with pride back at the crowd.

A photographer from the Yomiuri Shimbun snapped her picture, and famed TV personality Becky was making her introduction of “the first foreign-born student to win this contest in a decade.”

Becky asked Mads to give her feelings on the “hard-fought victory,” to which Mads tried her best at providing a statement which was both genuine and tempered. She fumbled a bit with her verb conjugation, but she had been stubborn about not using a translator. She was always the type to take on the full scale of a challenge, and all on her own. She could’ve gone to the American School in Chofu with all the other international students but opted instead for the girls’ academy. I had to admire her for that quality.

The more I think about it, I understand how grateful I am that both she and her mom joined the family. Had it just been my dad and I all these years, I’m sure I would’ve lost it long before I had the chance to meet her.

* * *

After the throng of admirers had finally dispersed, I accompanied Mads and Lorelei back to the Aston Martin which their driver had parked at the curb.

On the way, Mads spotted her classmate/rival Chihiro Hayashihara, who I noticed had traded her dual pigtails hairstyle from last year in favor of a close cropped asymmetric cut. Anyone who was a less dignified competitor, which is to say someone more like myself, would’ve taken this chance to gloat, but Mads took a classier route. She offered up her commemorative bouquet, to which Hayashihara responded with a jubilant squeal. The two set a date for going to get cupcakes and exchanged farewell hugs.

“You sure we can’t at least take you to dinner?” Lorelei proposed before stepping into the backseat of the car. “It’s your birthday after all.”

“Namjoon already invited me,” I explained, referring to my friend from childhood who, despite my concerted efforts, had managed to persist into my adulthood. I addressed Mads next, “I still want my air hockey rematch this weekend, though.

She grinned at me in mischief. “You got another 10,000 yen bill that needs to be free from your wallet?”

“I’m getting your college fund by the time we’re through, believe that.”

“Whatever you say, Roman Reigns,” she shot back without a hint of concern.

I shut the door behind her, and the car pulled away into the street, eventually rounding the corner at the traffic light and disappearing from view.

* * *

Truth be told, I actually had quite a bit of time left to kill before meeting Namjoon. I just didn’t want anyone making a big deal about my birthday. I only agreed to go out with him because this was solely for his benefit. There was this girl he’d been chatting with on his dating app, and she was finally visiting Tokyo. But since she wanted to bring a friend, Namjoon needed a wingman in order for the two of them to agree to come out. I could only hope tonight was one example of a good deed that would in fact go unpunished.

Like I said, I still had a bunch of daylight I needed to burn, but that was OK because the onigiri from lunch wasn’t sustaining me anymore. I hit up one of the ramen shops tucked away in Roppongi-itchome Station. It had the arrangement I liked. You put your money in the kiosk, punch the button for your order, the kiosk spits out a ticket, you put the ticket on the counter, and someone wordlessly brings your food. It was the kind of establishment which proved my point about how the more people you cram into an area, the greater lengths they’ll go to in order to avoid talking to each other. The noodles were a bit overcooked, and the gyoza came out greasy. I still had two servings anyway.

Afterwards I wanted something to get that rich taste out of my mouth, so I went to the Family Mart for a pack of Pianissimo Peche. With its mild peach flavor, it’s basically the tobacco equivalent of schnapps. Come for the candy taste, stay for the nicotine. 

But with all the country’s initiatives for clear air and cleaner sidewalks, it’s actually considered somewhat bad manners to be smoking outdoors, so I was forced to step into one of the few socially acceptable smoking spaces, the pachinko parlor. 

I was halfway through my fourth butt when a Czech tourist with dark hair and a Chelsea FC Women jersey (I think she mentioned that she was named after some film noir actress) sat at the adjacent machine and started regaling me with the tale of how pachinko was invented following World War II, when widespread shutdown of submarine manufacturing operations resulted in a surplus of ball bearings. 

“Pachinko was born from defeat,” she intoned. “That’s why it’s impossible to truly win.”

I hope Hallmark ended up hiring her eventually.

I nodded along, as her history lesson was more pleasant to listen to than the same three EDM tracks that were kept on endless loop.

I ended up losing several thousand yen, but I actually found myself curious about the Czech lady’s claims. I took the Toei Bus to Nagatcho and started poring through the resources of the National Diet Library. It turned out her version of events was largely apocryphal. The precursors to pachinko had in reality existed in the form of games like Corinthian bagatelle and Billard japonais. Come to think of it, I could’ve just looked everything up on my phone, but again, lots of time left to kill.

Since I was at the library anyway, I read through _Kitchen_ by Banana Yoshimoto, and that left me wanting katsudon. However, I had stayed too late to be able to eat and still make it to Shinjuku on time, so I just relented on my dinner plans.

* * *

As I walked up to the front entrance of WARP Nightclub, I already saw a pretty epic queue winding its way down the sidewalk. Like hell I was gonna wait in that, I thought to myself. But Namjoon had assured me we’d be able to get right in.

Namjoon worked as a translator of erotic manga. I had no idea how he spun it on his resume, but let’s just say he’s developed a rather “specialized” vocabulary. He apparently had been able to bribe one of the club’s bouncers with an advance copy of the next issue to _Amazon Knightess Tomoko in the Valley of Lust_.

I plucked another cigarette from the pack and ignited the tip with my disposable lighter. Luckily at this time of night, the cops were more interested in breaking up motorcycle gangs than enforcing littering protocol. As I took my first puff, I looked to the other side of Kabukicho Ichiban-gai Street and caught sight of a girl strumming her Fender six-string in front of the Itamae Sushi. 

She wore her platinum blonde hair long and with bangs. Impressive, as I found very few girls could pull off that style. She was dressed in a plain white T-shirt with denim short overalls on top and classic black and white Adidas on her feet.

I made sure to exhale out the side of my mouth, so as to prevent the smoke from obscuring my vision. She was attractive, certainly enough so to elevate such a modest outfit. What might’ve been even more stunning than her looks was how her song compelled me to hone in my sense of hearing more and more. The sounds of traffic and chatter eventually faded away, all replaced by just her voice ringing out in the electric night.

_“Don’t wanna see you, don’t wanna kiss you, don’t wanna love you,_

_But I don’t wanna say bye, don’t wanna say bye.”_

Each syllable sprang lively from her mouth and dissipated into the neon lights of the various store facades.

_“I got my reasons, but I get caught in my feelings,_

_And I don’t wanna say bye, don’t wanna say bye bye.”_

She sang with her eyes closed, seemingly not noticing the various passersby who dropped 100 yen coins into her open guitar case. 

_“Don’t wanna say bye.”_

And yet, even if it didn’t look like she could take note of your presence, there was something about her words which felt like a painstakingly personalized entreaty.

_“I got my reasons, but I get caught in my feelings,_

_And I don’t wanna say bye, don’t wanna say...”_

Surely this song was one of pain. And from listening to it, I felt my own heart sag inside my own chest. Her pain was becoming mine too.

_“I know I need to let you go._

_We need to cut these ties.”_

I felt this kind of bond with her in this pain. For these brief few moments, we were sharing a space that only we could know.

_“But tell me that if I let you go,”_

But what if I could heal her of this pain?

_“You’d still be mine.”_

Could I heal myself too?

“Yo, Kookie Monster!” A familiar voice cried out. Instinctively jerking my head toward the exclamation, Namjoon’s bleach blonde pompadour was what I first noticed, as always.

“What's with the getup?” He motioned toward my suit and tie combo like he was telling some moving people to haul away unwanted furniture. “I told you to wear something chic and sexy.” In contrast, he highlighted his own outfit: a bomber jacket with a pattern of tiger stripes atop a cherry blossom pink dress shirt, accented with linen trousers featuring a print of water lilies, and finally turquoise moccasins. “You come here looking like you’re trying to sell me a life insurance policy!”

I scowled at him. “I’m not taking fashion advice from somebody whose dress code seems to be ‘What if a peacock threw up on me?’”

“Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m beautiful.” He popped the collar of his shirt.

“I don’t need any more reasons to hate you.”

“Why you in such a bad mood? You know I got a lot riding on tonight. I only got this one shot!”

“OK, Mr. Eight Mile, calm down. I’ll just follow your lead.”

“ _Oppa!_ ” a giddy female voice called out with unwieldy glee.

If the peacock had vomited on Namjoon, this other girl must’ve been hit with some of the extraneous splatter. She was wearing a long-sleeve top the same orange color as a creamsicle. This was tied in a ribbon below the bust and exposed her midriff. White culottes with prints of nautical flags and cowgirl boots the color of Mississippi River mud completed her ensemble. She bounded toward Namjoon and leaped into his arms. The couple spun together in a twirling frenzy. Her bubblegum pink hair was sent whipping around.

“I can’t believe it, finally we’re together!” Her accent was distinctively Kiwi.

“It’s been worth the wait. You’re even more beautiful in person,” Namjoon crooned.

I had to blink a few times just to make sure I was still witnessing real life. By then, I was feeling more like Otacon: “What’s with these guys? It’s like one of my Japanese animes.” But at least he had the spectacle of a genetically enhanced super soldier and a cyborg ninja dueling to the death.

“I’m Lisa,” an additional voice spoke to me.

The pink-haired girl had hogged all the attention, I hadn’t even recalled there was supposed to be another guest joining us this evening. When I finally brought my attention over to her, I realized it was the girl who had been singing across the street. The guitar was slung across her shoulder.

The only reaction I could hope to muster was to stare at her agape.

“Lisa,” she repeated. This time she tried holding out her hand to me. Her nails were painted black.

I forced a few more blinks, hoping to shake my senses back to the present reality. The girl from across the street was now within arm’s reach. For some reason, it felt like this spectacular occurrence that she’d traveled this distance.

“I...” I lifted my hand to shake hers, but this lone gesture seemed to drain me of all my cognition because I couldn’t even finish introducing my own name.

“Where are my manners?” Namjoon interjected.

I turned to look at him. 

His arm was already snaked around the slim waist of the pink-haired girl, who he addressed as “Rosé.” Pointing over to me, he went on, “This is my best friend Jungkook.”

“Charmed.” Rosé directed an airy giggle at me. “And this...” Rosé walked over to Lisa and embraced her around the shoulders, “Is my sister in arms, the Thelma to my Louise, the straw that stirs my drink--”

“Just Lisa,” Lisa stated with a bemused roll of her eyes.

“She’s so modest,” Rosé added.

“Hey, let’s not waste any more time,” Namjoon insisted. “Let's get our drink on, get our dance on!”

Rosé cackled in delight as she took his hand and the two rushed for the front doors.

“Jungkook.” I could finally lift my voice above a whisper. “I’m Jungkook.”

“I heard,” Lisa replied as she returned a gentle smile to me. “Nice to meet you.”

A pretty simple line. One that I believe ordinary people deliver to each other every ordinary day. But for some reason, even this simple a line, a humble acknowledgement from her, it was enough to catch my breath in my throat.

* * *

In terms of Namjoon’s proclamation to “get our drink on, get our dance on,” it was mission accomplished, at least for him and Rosé.

They dashed out to the Universe Floor with reckless abandon and immediately began synchronizing their bodies to the thudding bass line. They took breaks to grab the odd fluorescent colored cocktail from the bar, but otherwise they lived out on that dancefloor.

Lisa, on the other hand, seemed content to sit in the booth, one leg folded over the other at an angle alluring in its precision. It looked as though she were watching the proceedings in front of her, but it also felt like she was somehow at a higher plane of understanding, seeing things the rest of us couldn’t.

I conjured up some will to break the silence between us. “You’re not having your drink?” I pointed to the still untouched Manhattan sitting on the glass tabletop before her.

“Oh.” She shook her head. “No, I’m feeling a little woozy actually. Didn’t get a chance to eat before this.”

“You were busy playing music.”

“You saw?” Even in the dim lighting, I could tell her eyes had lit up.

“Yeah for sure. You sounded amazing.”

“Thanks.” She smiled again, only this time it came from a genuine reflex of joy, rather than a programmed gesture of basic courtesy.

“I didn’t have dinner either,” I explained to her. “I thought Namjoon would at least treat us to kebab.”

“If he’s like Rosé, it’s not that surprising to me. She’s always been a Red Bull for breakfast, vodka for dinner kinda gal.”

“Then they really are perfect for each other.”

She laughed. She did so with her entire face. Lips, eyes, cheekbones, everything.

I continued, “If you're also hungry, I know this great place around here.”

“What about our friends?” she inquired in concern.

“They’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Look at ‘em.”

Surely enough, Namjoon and Rosé were still practically glued to each other, reveling in one another’s motions.

“They look like they’re shooting a commercial,” Lisa remarked.

“That sells fragrances to tweens?” I added.

She laughed again, even louder this time. She playfully slapped my knee. “You’re funny.” She picked up her Manhattan and drained it in a graceful gulp. “I might have to keep you around.”

Now it was me who couldn’t resist a grin from spreading ear to ear.

* * *

“Mm!” Lisa chewed with relish. The combination of basil, tomato, and olive oil must’ve had her taste buds dancing like Namjoon and Rosé back at WARP. She had thrown back three slices of Margherita while I was just a few bites into my first.

Not that I wasn’t hungry myself, it’s just I got inexplicably captivated by her engaging in this simple task of eating a pizza.

She swallowed that last bite, allowing herself a thoroughly satisfied sigh afterward. Once her glance settled on mine, she started up with another fit of laughter.

“What is it?” I couldn’t help but join in myself.

“I am so sorry,” she replied. “I’m here stuffing my face. Not very dignified.”

“What? No worries, come on, it’s meant to be enjoyed,” I insisted.

“Did you take me for this kind of girl?”

“I don’t think I've known you long enough to take you for any ‘kind.’”

“No judgements then?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hey, hey!” exclaimed the owner of the restaurant, Paolo. A portly man whose hairline was receding at the same rate that his belly was swelling with wine and pasta, he never failed to notice his customers enjoying the food, for this merely offered him further license for self-promotion. “This girl eats like a _campione_ , no?”

Lisa smiled back at him with all 32 of her teeth.

“Everyone’s like that when they have your food for the first time,” I replied to him.

“Hope you’re not full yet, then.”

“No way, bring it on!” Lisa exhorted.

“I got quattro formaggi just coming out the oven,” Paolo announced.

Lisa rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

“And another round of Peroni?” Paolo offered.

“Yes please!”

Paolo gave a firm nod, then was off to his kitchen again.

As Lisa took the final sip of her beer, the look of tranquil contentment that settled on her face made me feel entitled to a small smirk of self-satisfaction. It felt like such an achievement to bring some measure of joy to this girl.

“I'm having a really good time,” she announced in affirmation.

That small smirk of mine grew just a little wider.

“This night turned out way better than I thought.”

My confidence felt bolstered by her compliments, so I was emboldened enough to broach this next topic. “That song you were playing. Did you write it?”

“I did.”

“Is it about someone you know?”

Her gaze immediately darted away. She brushed back the strands of her hair behind her ears. The girl sighed hugely. “It’s not exactly ‘getting to know you’ type conversation,” she finally explained.

“OK,” I nodded to affirm my understanding. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright.” She waved her hand to further signify no harm done.

Paolo’s booming baritone came barreling into the conversation “ _Taunti auguri a te!”_

I whipped my head around in time to see Paolo carrying that four-cheese pizza, with the twist that 23 candles were sitting atop it.

“Oh, fuck.” I buried my face in my palm.

“ _Taunti auguri a te!_ ” Paolo continued. “ _Taunti auguri, Jungkook!_ ” He set the pizza down on the table before me. “ _Taunti auguri a te!_ ”

“Paolo,” I said with a groan, “You really shouldn’t have.”

“You think you were gonna sneak in here without me knowing it’s your birthday?” he confronted me. 

Lisa now regarded me with her own agape expression.

“I didn’t have time to get a cake, but you still gotta blow out the candles and make a wish. What kinda birthday it’d be without that?”

“The wax is getting all over the cheese!” I bemoaned.

“I get you another one after this, just do it!” Paolo insisted.

“Yeah!” Lisa backed him up. “You have to!”

With an exasperated sigh, I drew in a hearty breath within my chest. What was it about her that compelled me to follow along with her lead?

* * *

Lisa and I walked to the curb outside the restaurant to wait for her taxi. She set her guitar down on the pavement.

I pulled out the pack of cigarettes from my back pocket. “OK if I smoke?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

As I lit up, I could see her wrapping her arms around herself. The breeze tonight was unseasonably chilly, sending her into shivers. I slipped my arms out from the sleeves of my jacket and held it up to her. “May I?”

“Oh.” She tilted her head with a look that slightly resembled puzzlement, but I guess she quickly decided this wouldn’t be of any harm. “Sure.”

I draped my jacket across her daintily slim shoulders. She reached up to draw the fabric closer to her chest. 

She smiled at me in gratitude. I smiled back to let her know I was glad to help.

I took a drag from my cigarette and exhaled in the direction away from her, making sure the smoke trailed downwind.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I heard her ask as I was still facing away.

I looked back at her quizzically. “Huh?”

“About your birthday,” she clarified.

“Ah.” I shuffled my wingtips uneasily underneath me. “I guess that also isn’t ‘getting to know you’ type conversation.”

“Hm.” She furrowed her brow. “OK.”

I tapped the tip of my cigarette, letting a few ashes fall lazily to the concrete. “But I guess I don’t mind sharing. It’s just most people don’t bother to ask, so I assume they’re not interested.”

“I am.”

I swept my hair back, letting the night air cool my forehead a little. “When I turned 13, the one present I really wanted was Mass Effect 2,” I explained. “All day I was calling my dad, bugging him to take me to get Mass Effect 2.” I paused a moment to take another drag from my cigarette. The words to this story actually sounded foreign on my tongue. I really wasn’t used to telling this story. “But as it got later and later and he still didn’t come home from work, I got really worried that the store was gonna close. So I asked my brother.” Saying his name also sounded foreign. “Seokjin. That was his name.”

“Was?” she asked, softly as she could.

“He had just gotten his license, but he really wanted to help me out, you know? So he agreed to drive. But that night, it was raining, just fucking raining cats and dogs. Some biblical, drown the world type of shit.” I scratched my chin with my thumb. “He hit this pocket of water on the interstate and hydroplaned across all four lanes. Car flipped over.” I needed to swallow the lump in my throat before going on. “He snapped his neck, died instantly.”

I realized I hadn’t looked back at her since beginning my story. I didn’t know how she’d been reacting to it all. Taking some time to see her again, her expression didn’t seem to have changed. It was as if she were more intent on studying me instead.

So I continued. “I got off easy, relatively speaking. Fractured my leg, and they had to put in iron rods. I did rehab for a few months but got back most of the function. Still gets sore sometimes when I push too hard.” I realized I was winded from speaking for so long. I’d never spoken for so long before, at least not about this. I needed another breath, this time without the cigarette. “My mom blamed my father. She left us soon after that. Part of the reason my dad wanted to move here. Give him and me a fresh start or something.”

I saw that my cigarette was getting down to the nub, so I took one last drag and threw it to the ground. I crushed it under my heel afterward. “Seokjin was the type who did everything the right way. Went to bed early, woke up early. Studied hard. Talked like ‘Yes, sir,’ and ‘No, sir.’ He always squeezed the toothpaste from the bottom of the tube up. No exceptions.” I shifted my gaze back to her again. “You believe that?”

She felt enough at ease for a slight grin.

“So I thought to myself,” I added, “What really is the point? Even if you try to be perfect, it all can be taken away. Just, without any reason, no explanation, one moment, and it’s all gone.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my trousers. My chin felt glued to my chest. I didn’t want to look up anymore.

But I could hear the soles of her sneakers approaching me. “Hey,” she called out to me. “Can you look at me?”

I lifted my head to meet her glance.

“Your brother was just trying to make you happy.” She looked at me with eyes that were at once both intense and assuaging. “That’s something about him that should never be forgotten. Even if he’s gone now, that doesn’t make his intention mean any less.” She reached out her arm from underneath the opening of my jacket and gingerly placed her hand on my chest. “If you ask me, the best thing you can do for him is to try to fulfill his intention.” And just to make sure her point couldn’t possibly be missed, she moved her hand to place her palm on my cheek. “Try to be happy regardless.”

I had to wonder if it really was so easy. I’d spent a long time feeling so confused, not even really able to comprehend how much I’d lost, let alone how to move forward from that loss or how to get back at least some sliver of what’s gone. But was it really that easy?

Before I could muse on this more or get further lost in those dark eyes, the sound of her cab pulling up broke up the moment.

She was about to shrug off my jacket, but I put a hand on her shoulder.

“You hold onto it,” I told her.

“You sure?”

“It’s still kinda cold. And that taxi doesn’t look like it has a heater that’s up to code.”

She gave the rickety jalopy a once over and nodded in agreement.

“I wanna come back and watch you play more music,” I said. “Maybe you can give it back to me then.”

She giggled, in what I hope was her excitement at my being able to see her perform again. “I’ll get it dry cleaned.”

“Deal.”

She made her way to the cab and opened the door but made sure to turn back to me for one more question. “What was your wish? When you blew out the candles?”

I let my eyes wander around a bit. Did I really have the nerve to tell her? “I’m not supposed to say, right?” Nah, I guess not. “At least, not if I want it to come true?”

“It must mean a lot to you.”

I didn’t feel like giving away too much, so I just shrugged noncommittally.

She flashed me a final wry grin before settling into the backseat. As the car pulled away, I had to admit to myself that my wish wasn’t for anything so grand or momentous. It wouldn’t be of much consequence to hardly anything, whether it came to fruition or not. But in that one moment, I could say for sure it was what I most wanted right then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victoria isn't entirely an original character. Does anyone care to guess where her inspiration might've come from?


	2. Chapter 2

The puck careens off the left bank and straight into my goal, landing in the receptacle with a resonant clatter. I never even had a chance. I buried my face in my palm as the jets of the air hockey table shut off, signaling the merciful conclusion to an 11-3 drubbing that I just received at the hands of Mads. 

All she had left to do was saunter over to my side of the table, arms folded haughtily across her chest and just the widest smug grin plastered across her countenance. She held out the palm of her hand.

“Triple or nothing,” I tried proposing in vain.

“Forget it,” she replied in defiance. “I don’t wanna be late for my cupcake date with Chihiro.”

With an exasperated groan, I reached for the wallet in my back pocket. “Goddamn cupcakes,” I grumbled, “If you like cake, just get the whole cake. Stop making so much trash with all those paper wrappers.” I fished out two 10,000 yen bills and laid them atop her waiting palm.

She folded up the money neatly and tucked it into her Rilakkuma satchel.

We exited the Taito Station game center and waited at the curb for the driver to pick her up.

“Oh, before I forget,” she announced, “You remember a couple months ago I sent in a recording for that summer music program at Stanford?”

“Yeah, did you hear back?”

“They’re having some admissions recruiters come to Tokyo to check out auditions in person. And I got a callback!”

I let my jaw hang lazily for a moment, my eyes bugging out in delighted shock. “That’s bonkers. So amazing!” And I meant it. She really had always been amazing, in that she was always finding new ways to amaze people.

“There’s still lots of work to do before I get in.” She was trying to play it off, but I could always tell when the hints of self-satisfaction were creeping into her voice. “They’re gonna allow some family and friends to watch as support. Do you wanna come?”

I pulled out my phone. “I’m gonna have to check my calendar--” But this gesture was only to feign at being unsure. “Are you kidding?” I called back to her just as quickly. “Yeah, I’ll be there!”

She finally allowed herself that full smile of self-satisfaction. 

“I’m gonna camp out the day before,” I went on. “I’ll be shitting in a bag the whole night just to make sure I don’t lose my spot in line!”

“Don’t take it that far, Bear Grylls.”

“No, seriously, I’m totally in.”

She sighed in relief. “I hope dad can be there too.”

It still shook me how easily she referred to him as “dad.” I guess for someone who never truly got to know her birth father, she was always seeking someone to assign that title to.

“You haven't asked him yet?” I sought to confirm.

“He always just gives me the same ‘I’ll try my best,’ without even looking away from his computer.”

“Yes, I’m perfectly familiar with that, trust me.”

“Would it help if I sang something he liked? What’s his favorite?”

“Well, that’s easy. ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over.’”

“By Ariana and Miley?"

I chuckled, as I had to come to grips with the fact that there was in fact a whole generation of people who would identify that song with Hannah Montana and Cat Valentine.

“No, it was first by Crowded House. It was the song that made dad want to learn English in the first place. He was convinced he’d perform it for Phoebe Cates, and then she’d marry him.”

“Who?”

“You know, the actress from Fast Times at Ridgemont High? The character Rachel Hunter was spoofing in the video for ‘Stacy's Mom’?”

“Again, who?”

Oh brother, you know you’re old when the young people don’t even remember the parodies of what you’re trying to reference.

“Never mind.” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about dad. If I have to put his leg in a bear trap and drag him over, he’ll be there.”

“You don’t need to do the Jigsaw Killer routine.”

“Oh come on, you know Saw, but not Fountains of Wayne?”

“I’m not into bizzarro shit,” she stated as the Aston Martin pulled up. She hopped into the backseat and shut the door behind her, being sure to give me a warm wave goodbye before the car departed.

Without plans for the rest of the day, I stepped back into Taito and got in a few games of Space Invaders Frenzy on the 100-inch screen. I was walking through the alleyway about to visit the vending machine that sold Asahi Super Dry (because trust me, that never gets abused by underage drinkers, like, ever) when she called.

“I picked up your jacket from the cleaner’s,” were her first words to me.

I grinned like a dope. I was developing a habit, and most likely she was the reason.

“I figure we could put it to use again tonight,” she posited.

“How do you mean?”

“You took me out to dinner already, so why don’t I return the favor? I can get us a table at La Rochelle. You know it?”

It was the second time that day when my eyes almost came out of my skull. La Rochelle in Minami Aoyama was the flagship restaurant of Hiroyuki Sakai, the Delacroix of French Cuisine and veteran of the 90s Fuji Television series Iron Chef.

“I’ve heard of it, yeah. I tried to get a table for my stepsister’s birthday last year, and apparently the wait list is about a decade long. How’re you gonna pull that off?”

“Just leave it to me. You only need to show up and look pretty. Can you handle that?”

“Won’t be as pretty as you, just so you know.”

“Aren’t you a charmer?” I couldn’t be entirely sure, but I guessed she was smiling on the other end of the line. Or at least I hoped it. “I’ll have to be careful with you. 7:00, see you there.”

I felt a lot of optimism at that point for how the night would turn out. Said optimism went away almost immediately when I realized I had lost my train fare to Mads. 

* * *

I hitchhiked on the back of a pickup making propane deliveries and got close enough to my place to be able to walk back.

I ran my body under the streams of my shower, brushed my teeth for a good three minutes (I did consider this a special occasion, after all), then applied aftershave even though it wasn't time for my customary once a week shave. It wasn’t because I was lazy about shaving, by the way. My facial hair just honestly doesn’t grow very fast. I donned my navy trousers, white dress shirt, and black wingtips. I also did manage to remember the tie this time, though lacking Mads’ help, I needed to look up a tutorial video for the Windsor knot.

I hailed a taxi because I didn’t want to be bumping into any of the sweaty zombies on the Tozai Line at rush hour. I wasn’t about to risk getting contaminated, not unless I had some kind of, I guess we’d have to call it a “fragrance shield,” but I couldn’t imagine such a thing actually existing in real life and chided myself silently for having an unproductive imagination.

The cab pulled up to the destination and I disembarked. As I walked past the black iron gate, I saw her standing near the blue awning bearing the restaurant's name.

She wore dark suede kitten heels and a black satin cocktail dress with bustier-seamed bodice. The skirt ran to slightly above her knees, and the sweetheart neckline did just enough to highlight her humble breasts. However, and this is something I’ve always had to ask forgiveness for possibly sounding so strange, what I found to be her most flattering feature was her clavicle. Its shape gave her entire torso this stunning symmetry, which suggested all parts of her body existing in total harmony with each other. 

I could only say to her the first thing that came to mind: “You look beautiful.”

She curled her ruby red lips into a flawless smile. She produced it so effortlessly, I had the feeling she must’ve practiced it endlessly with countless other people speaking countless other words. And yet, it touched me in a profoundly personal way that had me convinced it was a curated response to just my message in just that single moment.

Her hair was changed from last time. The style was kept pretty conservative, tied up near her neck in a simple side ponytail hanging over her left shoulder. But the color was a vivid shade of robin’s egg blue.

My navy jacket was draped across her arm. She handed it to me, and I slipped my arms through the sleeves and settled it around my shoulders.

“You’re lucky that suit is such a solid standby,” she remarked. “Looks great on you always.”

“I don’t think it's been this clean since I bought it.” I held the cuff up to my nose and took a sniff. “Smells nice, what is that?”

“I paid an extra 500 yen for the fragrant steam treatment. Apricot and lavender.”

“Sparing no expense, I appreciate that.”

“Do yourself a favor. If you’re just gonna go to yakitori or the odd sports bar, buy some cheapo jacket from the department store instead. This one’s a Hugo Boss. Take care of it and save it for grander adventures.”

“What, like here, for example? With you?”

“That’s more like it.”

“Well, thanks for letting this thing finally live up to its full potential.”

She gave me a gracious nod in affirmation. “By the way, be sure to tell your girlfriend thanks for letting me borrow you for the evening.”

I titled my head quizzically. “My girlfriend?”

She undid the golden zipper to her Hammitt black leather bag and eventually found a strip of photos. “Found these in the pocket.”

Surely enough, they were of Victoria and me, taken at a _purikura_ booth in Harajuku. True to the overall _kawaii_ aesthetic of the genre, the color scheme was deliberately oversaturated, especially highlighting warm pinks and reds and teals. Both Victoria and I had cartoon diamond tiaras photoshopped atop our heads, and various twinkling and glittery accents were strewn about the borders as well. Most of the images could be construed as fairly innocent, just her and myself making an assortment of silly faces to the camera. In fact, it was pretty common for purely platonic friends to engage in _purikura_. But there was a single one where she and I were clearly locking lips alongside a caption reading “ベスト キッス!!!” (“best kiss,” with dynamite sticks as exclamation marks).

“Oh,” I said with a minor cringe as she handed the photos back to me. “Look, Victoria and I--”

“You don’t really owe me an explanation.” She tried to sound as cool as possible, but I could’ve sworn I detected the faintest whiff of jealousy somewhere in her tone. “We’re just two friends about to have dinner.”

I had to admit, the “friends” determination stung me in a tender spot. “Well, just for the purpose of being upfront, she couldn’t properly be called my girlfriend.”

“Oh?”

“Every time we’ve tried to classify it as something specific, it just never ended up being as good. So we kinda have left it open-ended on purpose.”

She pursed her lips in contemplation. Eventually it seemed like she had made the determination this was too complicated for it to be worth her trying to figure out. “That’s for you guys to decide in the end.” She hung her bag on her shoulder again, motioned to the restaurant’s glass front doors. “Shall we?”

I nodded back. I tucked the strip of photos back into my wallet this time.

She and I walked across the rich brown tile of the floor and approached the maitre d’ booth together. He was a wiry old man with wisps of white hair resting atop his head and a pencil mustache to match.

Lisa greeted him first and announced us as “Mr. and Mrs. Bruschweiler.” To that, I immediately did a double take, to which she placed a soft hand on my arm to quell my shock.

The maitre d’ offered up a “ _Grüezi mitenand_ ” before having another staff member lead us to our table. The interior decor was elegant and pristine, white tablecloths against black chairs. Partitions of frosted glass broke up the overall space and gave each table a more intimate and closed in atmosphere. 

Once the staff member left us with our menus, I leaned toward Lisa and asked, “When did you and I get married? And become Swiss, by the way?”

She tittered in delight. “The Nomura Real Estate Group rents out this place for their reps to give individualized presentations to potential investors. My stepdad gets invited all the time, but he works most nights and can’t make it. It’s a pretty sweet deal, if you ask me. You listen to a few facts and figures about growth projections and debt-to-revenue ratio, then you get a free meal by the end.”

“How often do you come to stuff like this?”

“They rotate the staff about every month or so. Nobody’s recognized me.”

A rosy-cheeked waiter with a Kochi accent (“Just like from the samurai films” Lisa would later comment) came next to take our drink orders. Cutty Sark on the rocks for me, a citron presse for her.

“What’s tonight’s dessert?” she also asked him.

“Creme fraiche mousse with rhubarb and orange granita.”

“Sounds lovely. Can I have that first?”

The waiter made that sucking on teeth noise that Japanese people often did when confronted with a difficult proposition. “That might be a bit challenging...” he trailed off, presumably in the hopes that Lisa herself would step in and acquiesce.

“I really don't mean to be a bother,” she replied apologetically. She placed her hand on her stomach. “It’s just that the baby is giving me all kinds of cravings.”

I sputtered on my sip of seltzer water.

The waiter stammered his way through a response of “I’ll check with the chef.”

As I worked through my coughing fit, I could see her trying to conceal her grin behind a well-manicured hand, nails painted the hue of candy apples from your local state fair.

She ended up getting her mousse after all, which she ate while a Nomura agent sat to my right at the table. As Lisa had explained, he rattled off some stats about domestic inflation and showed me handouts with graphs of sales forecasts. I tried to follow along to the best of my ability. In the end, she was the one to give the polite rebuke, mentioning that she’d have to wait to see how some of our ventures in Malaysia would play out before being able to make a commitment. 

That seemed like it appeased the agent just fine. He gave a courteous bow and left us to our meal. And as she promised, it was a great meal. Escargot with parsley and garlic butter to start, a main course of duck a l’orange (she had to sneak a few sips of my Bordeaux since she was still feigning pregnancy), and I ended up sharing some of my own dessert with her at the end too.

I got to learn more about her, which I’d even say was a better experience than the food. She was born in Thailand. Her parents got divorced pretty early, but her mom remarried to a Swiss man who was visiting the country as part of his culinary apprenticeship. The family moved to Korea when her stepdad got a job at a bistro in Seoul. She talked about the difficulty of having to learn Korean so quickly, but mentioned she did so largely through listening to secondhand CDs of H.O.T. on her thrift store stereo. In school, she hated history but ended up enjoying math. In fact, she and Rosé first met because Rosé had forgotten to do her geometry homework and asked Lisa to copy off hers. Lisa agreed, and Rosé tried to repay her by offering to dye her hair. However, Rosé didn’t know that Lisa was on the swim team, and neither girl knew that chemically lightened hair was especially vulnerable to getting turned green from the chlorine in pools.

“At least you figured out the hair coloring eventually,” I chimed in.

That brilliant smile of hers again. 

Her stepfather was now executive chef at the Blue Room restaurant in Toranomon’s Edition hotel. She worked at a daycare in Akasaka. Most of her students were children of foreigners on international assignments. Speaking as many languages as she did made it easier for her to deal with kids from so many various backgrounds. She lived with her mother and stepfather for now, but was saving up to get her own place. She claimed it didn’t matter much where, so long as they allowed pets because for sure she was getting a pug as her first act of independent living.

She changed her hair pretty often, revealing that she has a tendency “to get bored with things quickly.”

I asked how she knew she wouldn’t get bored with the dog.

“You're right, better start with a fish or something,” she conceded.

My turn to laugh now.

* * *

As we exited to the cobblestone path outside the restaurant, she told me “I had fun.”

“Had? Or having?” I sought to clarify. “Because if you’re still having fun, why put an end to it?”

She found some sense in my logic too, so we went out for, what else, more dessert. This time it was something more traditionally Japanese, _kakigori_. But given the chilly nature of the frozen treat, she ended up getting cold again, so once more I let her borrow my jacket. This time she put her arms through the sleeves, but since they were a bit long, she had to roll them up.

“I gotta ask,” I posited, “What’s with the thing about having dessert first?”

“Simple.” She sipped some icy syrup through her neon green swizzle straw. “Dessert’s the best part of the meal. Why not skip straight to the best part?”

“Skip to the best part,” I repeated. “That philosophy must make you really popular with all the boys.”

“Wouldn't know,” was her flippant reply. “I’m already spoken for.”

I wasn’t sure then if I was actually hurt by this revelation. Because I probably didn’t have the right to be hurt. She’d never promised me anything beyond a few dinners. I decided I didn’t want to spend any more time figuring it out. It’d be selfish of me to hold up the conversation over this strictly “me problem.”

The best way I could think of to keep things going was to ask “What’s his name?”

She didn’t look up as she spooned up some more shaved ice with condensed milk topping. “Jennie.”

And for the third time in the same day, my eyeballs sought to escape my skull.

“Surprised?” she asked.

“I guess I shouldn’t be,” I finally stated. “It’s the 21st century after all.”

“The way I see it, love is love. When you feel love, you feel it for a person, not a gender. Just because Jennie’s a woman, does that make her less smart? Does it mean her jokes make me laugh less? Just because she’s a woman, does that make her worse in bed?"

“I mean, I’ve only ever been with women, so I wouldn’t know how to compare it. And I couldn’t imagine how it’d work if I had different...” I chewed on my spoon as I rooted around in my vocabulary for the right terminology, “Equipment.” Mission not accomplished. “I will say I haven’t had any complaints, though.”

“You haven’t had any complaints, or you fall asleep before the feedback stage begins?”

“Cheap shot!” I bemoaned.

“Oh! Why don’t we call Victoria and ask what she has to say?”

“God no!”

She cackled in immense pride at how thoroughly uncomfortable she’d just made me.

“You’re terrible,” I said in jest. OK, half jest.

“You love it.”

That much I couldn’t deny. “Yeah, I do.” I was starting to love much about her.

* * *

Even after we finished our food, we still decided to keep our stroll going. We happened across another Taito Game Station, and since I felt like I hadn’t lost enough of my money to that place, we stopped in so I could try my hand at the claw machine. Try as I might, as positive as I may have felt that the metallic phalanges had wrapped themselves entirely around that gigantic plush stuffed Nemo, every single time that blasted toy just ended up falling right back into the pit.

I let my forehead fall listlessly against the cold glass, the one barrier between me and the prize I had been seeking since 2,000 yen ago.

“Let me try,” she eventually spoke up.

I stepped away from the machine with a sigh of resignation. She popped in a 100 yen coin of her own and took the joystick in her nimble fingers. After taking almost the entirety of the allotted 60 seconds to find the most perfect position (she even walked around to the side so she could see it from another angle), she pressed down on the pulsating red button reading “GO,” and the claw made its descent. Just like it had with me, the claw clamped around the plush Nemo. Just like it had with me, the claw started to rise. But unlike how it had it with me, the claw continued to grip the Nemo. The claw hovered to the corner of the machine and unclenched, releasing Nemo into the prize receptacle. 

Lisa reached down to pluck away her trophy. She could barely get her arms around it.

I shook my head in disbelief and could only manage an incredulous “How?” 

“Let me teach you something so you don't spend your whole life savings at this place.” She set Nemo on the floor for a moment. “That claw is programmed to have two settings. Let’s call one the soft setting.” She held out her hand in front of me, her fingers fully extended to further illustrate her point. “The other is the hard setting.” She closed her hand into a tight fist. “Most of the time, the machine is in soft setting, and it doesn’t matter if you get that claw entirely around the toy.” She placed her hand on my wrist and wrapped her fingers around. “It just slides right off.” She slipped her hand away, her fingers hardly putting any grip on me. “You have to wait until the claw is in hard setting. Then it can grab hold.” She placed her grip on my wrist again. And it won't let go.”

I smiled back at her, grateful to have learned something useful, yes, but also grateful for her touch.

“Life is like that sometimes,” she went on. “You have to wait for the right time if you want to hold onto something.”

While waiting for the taxi to take her home, she offered to let me have Nemo because I had spent the most money already. I argued it’d be put to better use with her because she had mentioned she’d try a fish first to see if she could handle having a pet. I told her to have Nemo in her room for a little while, and if she doesn’t get sick of him so easily, then she’ll know she's truly ready for that dog. She agreed and stuffed Nemo into the trunk of the taxi. She took my jacket again because it just didn’t seem like any cabs in the whole of Tokyo had well-working heaters.

As I watched the car pull away, I again pondered on whether she could be correct in her claims of life following such simple principles. Would I be able to hold onto what’s most dear to me, if only I kept myself waiting for the right time?


	3. Chapter 3

_“The look in your eyes_

_Will turn to surprise”_

Victoria sat atop the bar counter, her slender legs flowing out from the knee-length skirt of her pearl pink sheath charmeuse dress. She cradled the microphone in front of her mouth with both hands.

_“As you feel the pain,_

_And you realize”_

Her audience sat on a single row of barstools arranged only about three feet away from her. Customary of most other establishments around these parts, this nondescript jazz bar in the Golden Gai neighborhood featured a floor plan that could generously be described as “intimate.” Most of the time, you’d be lucky to squeeze in double digit patrons. 

_“The one hurting you_

_Is somebody who_

_Once said,”_

I only ever went to watch the shows she performed in this area. I often felt out of place among the preening fat cats that occupied the sleek and swanky luxury resorts she often worked at. Golden Gai is a gathering spot for artists, musicians, filmmakers, academics. In my experience, the drinks were stronger, as was the ensuing discourse. Around these parts, it didn’t take much for a small crew of inebriates to work themselves into a frenzy, and soon Victoria's tip jar was stuffed with banknotes featuring Yukichi Fukuzawa's stoic mug. 

_“‘I love you’”_

Something I had to take note of tonight was how her performing style contrasted with Lisa’s. Lisa played her music as if in a trance, elevating herself to a state of being that seemed other from those who were watching on. 

Victoria not only played to her fans, in a way, she made them part of the show with how she beckoned their collective fervor and channeled it into her own performance. She swayed along to the sultry horn, lulling everyone together into a unified reverie for the music.

_“Someday, we’ll pay back all we’ve borrowed.”_

She’d been going for a couple hours straight already. The crowd didn’t seem to lose their intensity, though, and with her being so near to her group of admirers, the energy transfer to her seemed to all the more potent.

_“What we love today, we’ll lose tomorrow.”_

She clutched at her chest, the spot on her sheer lace bodice where her heart would be.

_“But I won’t need to wait for my share of sorrow”_

Whenever her eyes settled on mine, the intensity radiating from her always left wondering how much of her performance was just showmanship, and how much was autobiographical.

_“‘Cause I always kill_

_The things I love.”_

* * *

“Which one was your favorite?” she asked me as the elevator climbed up.

Her apartment was located in a high-rise in upscale Minami-Azabu. Rumor had it that J-pop megastar Ayumi Hamasaki was one of her neighbors. I personally had never seen her around, but then again there must’ve been some reason for the frequent deliveries of Boss coffee down the hall.

“‘The Things I Love,’” was my choice.

“Really? I thought I sounded a bit pitchy.”

“Nah, you killed it.”

“You’re too kind,” she said with the faintest of blush hitting her cheeks.

The elevator chimed as it reached the penthouse floor. It was a few yards of walking before we’d reach her door, and she scanned her card key to let us enter.

She kicked off her Marion Parke stilletos and walked over to the coffee table to place her Burberry Title Bag onto the glass top. As she made her way to her bedroom, she unclasped the string of Mikimoto pearls from around her neck and removed the Tiffany rose gold bracelet from her wrist, placing both items back into the jewelry box on the nightstand.

Her phone started to ring from inside her purse, but she had already begun slipping out of her dress.

“Could you get that?” she requested. “It’s probably the delivery guy. He needs a new code to get up here. Tell him ‘2408.’”

I reached into her bag and answered the phone without looking at the caller ID. “ _Moshi moshi_.”

“Oh,” a woman spoke out in surprise, probably both at hearing a male voice and also at hearing Japanese. “I’m sorry, I was trying to reach Victoria.”

“This is her phone. I’m her...” I scratched the back of my head. “Her friend.”

“Oh I see,” the woman replied. “Could you just tell her that Jessica called?”

“Jessica. Got it.”

“And that the apartment in Bellevue she was asking about, it’ll be available by February.”

I was no expert on geography, but I knew there wasn’t any district in Japan called Bellevue. In fact, I had taken a class trip to Seattle during summer of eighth grade, and I knew Bellevue was across the lake. Far, far away from here, is my point.

“Um.” My throat turned hopelessly dry. I tried a cough in an attempt to reactivate my voice. “OK. Sure.”

“Thanks very much.”

The line went dead, and it took a while for my sense of reality to reestablish itself.

Victoria stepped out of her bedroom in her sweatpants and T-shirt for the Bryn Mawr College Soccer Club, where she had served as a walk-on full back. “Was that the food?”

“It was someone called Jessica.”

“Oh?”

“Talking about the apartment in Bellevue.”

Her expression turned deathly serious. “Oh.” The girl sighed hugely.

“Are you leaving?”

“Nothing’s been decided yet. I just think it’s good to know what my options are.”

“You mean options aside from me?”

She swiped some errant bangs away from her eyes. “How much longer do you think I have here? Some other fair-haired girl with sparkles in her eyes comes along, stumbles through a halfway decent rendition of ‘Sugartown,’ and boom, that’s it for me.”

“So you’re mostly thinking of your job?”

“I’m thinking of what is supposed to be my purpose here,” she stated. “What do you think that should be? To be your girlfriend? Wife? Fuck buddy?”

I averted my gaze, as no straight answer was forthcoming from me.

“Be honest with yourself,” she implored. “Do you think your purpose, the one thing in your life that you want to stake your identity on, is that to be with me?”

The ensuing silence turned out to be all the answers she and I needed.

* * *

Having not been able to eat dinner, I found myself at the local yakitori, and wouldn’t you know, I ended up with a date, of sorts.

Outside the 7-Eleven around the corner, I once again encountered pachinko lady from Prague. She was wearing a no. 6 Swedish National Team jersey while drinking Sapporo Premium out of the can. She told me she had been eating nothing but McDonald’s and Cup Noodle since she’d been in the country because it was the only food she recognized. 

The skewer of tsukune that came off the grill was the first chicken she’d seen that wasn’t McNuggets. 

“Cheers,” I beckoned her, and we bumped our mugs of Yebisu dark lager.

I didn’t know very much about European football, so our topic of conversation turned to the universal constants, love and relationships.

I talked a bit about what had happened earlier in the night with Victoria, showed her the purikura photos, to which Czech lady commented, “She’s cute. If she’s suddenly available, can I have her number?”

I scrunched up my face as I pondered the prospect that Victoria might also be into women. There was that picture on her refrigerator of this girl in a gray beanie, but I’d never bothered to get clarification on who she was to Victoria.

I talked about Lisa next, how I thought there might’ve been something because she’d offered to take my jacket to the cleaner’s.

“You think you can read a girl’s intentions because she offered to do your dry cleaning?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“You really know nothing about women. No wonder you got dumped.”

“Just eat your food,” I grumbled.

* * *

Lisa came over to my apartment for the first time. That night, her hair was deep violet. She was dressed pretty casually again, a gray pencil skirt and fitted long-sleeve top of jersey knit with thin black and white horizontal stripes. I said I’d make a pasta dinner for her, but as soon as she caught sight of the sauce simmering on the stovetop, she half-jokingly described it as “warm ketchup.”

Luckily, some of her stepdad’s cooking skills must've passed on to her. She chopped up some olives, crushed a bit of garlic, and fried pieces of pancetta. With that, our food turned into something fit for consumption by humans. To my credit, she was at least delighted by my wine choice of Spanish txakoli.

“Let me ask you something,” she posited after our meal as I was rinsing the dishes. “You don’t have a job. Don’t go to school. No kids or any serious girlfriend to speak of. What would you say it is you actually do?”

I gave a noncommittal shrug. “I guess I don’t really _do_ anything. It’s more like I let things happen, and then I just go along with it.”

“What if something happens, and you just don’t know where to go from there?” She handed me her now empty wine glass. “Like, you didn’t know how to respond?”

“Haven’t seen anything like that yet.”

“Is that so?”

And with that, she reached for the pot still full of now tepid water that had been used to boil the noodles. She proceeded to dump the contents right over my head. I spat out a mouthful of starchy liquid as she roared in ecstatic laughter. But then again, that was perfect because with her relaxed posture, she was left relatively defenseless as I scooped her body up onto my shoulder (in spite of the shooting pain that eventually came upon my previously injured leg) and started hauling her to the bathroom. 

Along the way, she let out some playful shrieks while flailing her legs about in an attempt to wriggle free. I made it to the tub and set her down so that she faced the showerhead, me behind her. Once on her feet, she immediately tried to make a dash away, but I was sure to wrap my arm around her slender waist. Our bodies collided again, and another jovial yelp escaped from her throat. With my free hand, I turned the handle of the faucet and let the water flow. Both of us were getting drenched, and yet both of us were positively giddy about it.

And then she made good on her promise of giving me something I didn’t know how to respond to. Reaching up behind her head, she grasped a tuft of my hair and pulled my mouth to hers. My eyes darted open, and it felt like comprehension evaporated from my mind and all motor function ceased from my limbs. My grasp on reality was sinking into the velvety feel of her lips, the taste of sparkling wine still lingering. 

That must’ve been what she was counting on, since she took this opportunity to reach for the sprayer attachment. With a motion at once both swift and elegant, she spun around and started shooting the jet of water directly in my face. I sputtered to catch my breath and was sent reeling until my back bumped into the tile wall.

“OK! You--” I coughed up another mouthful of water “You win!” I finally managed to spit out.

“What was that?!”

“You win!”

“Say it louder!” she commanded.

“YOU WIN!”

She continued to cackle in mischief as she shut off the water at last. I collapsed into a seated position on the floor of the tub, and the whole ordeal must’ve taken a lot out of her as well, since she slinked down to join me eventually. 

Still heaving weighty gasps, I reached into my back pocket, and my worst fear was confirmed. “Oh, now you’ve gone too far.” I held up my pack of cigarettes, now thoroughly soaked.

“You should quit anyway,” she shot back, clutching at her side while she continued to giggle.

* * *

We dried off with some towels, and I offered her a pair of my joggers and a henley shirt to wear. I put her wet clothes into a paper bag from the Kinokuniya bookstore. 

She and I waited for her taxi, my suit jacket draped around her shoulders (I handed it over without her having to ask this time).

“By the way,” she announced. “I’m gonna be traveling for a little while. I might not be able to call back so quickly. Just so you know.”

“I understand. Where are you going?”

“Korea.”

“Oh, I remember you mentioning Jennie’s there. Are you going to see her?”

She drew my jacket closer to her chest. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“Well, tell her you only kissed me to win the fight. She doesn’t have to worry.”

She summoned up as firm a smile as possible. “She would approve. Victory at all costs.”

The car pulled up to the curb and she stepped into the backseat. As the taxi departed, she rolled down the window and leaned out to blow me a kiss goodbye.

If I had assumed she was done putting me in situations where I didn’t know how to respond, I’d have been greatly mistaken.


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you have your phone?" I asked Mads.

The Aston Martin meandered its way through the roads of Yotsuya.

"Yes," she replied.

"ATM card?"

"Yes." Now her tone was turning a bit more annoyed. Which is what I wanted, actually.

"Emergency flares? Malaria pills?"

"You're such a fucking dork," she rolled her eyes almost to the back of her head. "I don't even know why you insisted on coming with me. I go around the city by myself all the time."

"Yes, but this is your first party. You nervous?"

"I'll be fine as soon as I know you're gone. Chihiro shouldn't have to worry about you making an ass of yourself at her own birthday."

At that point I had to ponder to myself hadn't Mads been mentioning Chihiro pretty often as of late? After Lisa, the Czech lady, and maybe even Victoria, I had to at least consider the possibility, didn't I?

"You..." I cleared my throat, trying to force the jumble of thoughts into a coherent sequence, "How are things with Chihiro?"

"She's been really cool," Mads replied without much hesitation. "Did I mention I listened to 'Don't Dream It's Over'? She has Crowded House on vinyl. I always thought you were being a snob about that kind of stuff, but it turns out it really does sound better."

At least she does have good taste in music, I considered to myself. "What do you think of her as a person?" 

She squinted at me with a puzzled look. "How do you mean?"

"As in..." I stroked my chin with my thumb. It would've looked more contemplative had I managed to grow a goatee or something. "Do you have these feelings that are..." Oh boy, those words were coming out like pulled teeth. "I guess, _unique_ from how you feel for everyone else?"

She titled her head quizzically. "You're asking if I'm gay?"

"No judgment or anything. The important thing is you feel free to be yourself."

"I appreciate that." She reached behind her head and tightened her ponytail. "But I'm not."

"Oh." Leave it to her to always have an efficiently diplomatic answer. For everything.

"I know I asked for the Fletcher album last Christmas, but I just like her music."

"All right, fine. I guess it's just the people I've been hanging with recently." I scratched the back of my head. "Is there some reason you're so jittery then?"

"I'm not jittery!" she was quick to shoot back 

"I know jittery, and trust me, you're being jittery."

The girl sighed hugely. "There is someone I'm nervous about seeing. A boy, though."

"Ugh, that's worse."

The car pulled up to the curb outside the skyscraper condo complex where Chihiro lived.

"That's him, actually. The one in the striped polo." She pointed out the window at about a handful of chatting teens. The one in the striped polo was a tall kid with a 1960s Paul McCartney moptop haircut. 

"How old is he?" I asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Tatsuya's a bit older."

"How much a bit?"

"He's 15," she replied with a groan.

"Somebody needs to review his birth certificate. I think we have a Chinese Olympic Gymnastics Team situation here."

The driver opened the door for her, and she stepped out onto the pavement. 

"You know," I called after her. "Things were a lot easier back when you were a miserable loner."

"You only say that because you don't wanna be the only miserable loner."

"Fuck you, man, I want that Fletcher album back now."

"I made it safely," she announced. "No scrapes or scratches. You can go." That last line was more of a stern mandate.

"Wait, don't they give out cupcakes to guests?"

"No, they don't!" She clearly had gotten fed up by now. She spun on the heels of her ballet flats and ran off toward the group of chatting teens while calling out "Ta-kun!"

I grew wary that she'd already given Tatsuya a cutesy diminutive nickname.

The driver asked if I wanted a ride to the station, but I requested that he take me to nearby Shinjuku Gyo-en instead. I picked up the latest edition of Monthly Afternoon from a newsstand outside the east entrance. After stepping into the garden grounds, I found an unoccupied gazebo just before a late afternoon drizzle set in.

It was times like this that reminded me of growing up in Busan, back when the family was still all together. Near our house was this park, much more modest than my present setting. Seokjin and I would go there after soccer practice. We were supposed to be doing our homework, but every time it rained, the rhythmic patter of precipitation on the leaves and grass would inevitably lull me to sleep. 

Surely enough, it was after only a few pages of _Wave, Listen to Me!_ when the weather started playing its lullaby and I felt the drowsiness setting in.

* * *

" _Hyung_ , do you think you'll marry Jisoo?"

"That's hard to know right now. Marriage is supposed to mean forever."

"You two have already been together forever."

"Maybe in our minds, it feels that way. In truth, that's too big a concept for us to be able to understand. At least at our age."

"I guess I'll leave that for you to figure out. I've got enough problems already."

"Like what?"

"Like mom's gonna kill me when she finds out I didn't finish my homework."

"I'll convince her to give you a break. It's your birthday tomorrow, after all."

"I appreciate it."

"I'll wake you up next time."

"Thanks."

"If you're gonna figure things out, you have to wake up."

"What?"

"You have to wake up."

"Wait. That's not how this conversation went."

"Wake up."

* * *

I stirred at the noise of my phone vibrating against the wooden bench. My brain restored its full consciousness when I saw who it was.

"Sorry. It's been a while," Lisa spoke softly.

"It's fine." I was genuine in that. I was more than fine, in fact. She made my day just by letting me hear her voice. "I've just been hoping you're OK."

"Yes. It's nice to know you were thinking of me."

I was sure I had heard genuine appreciation, not just routine pleasantry.

"Where are you now?" I asked.

"Hotel near Incheon. I'm taking the first flight back to Narita tomorrow morning."

"Hey, why don't I come pick you up?"

"That won't be too much trouble?"

"My dad's got several drivers on his payroll. You deserve a comfortable ride after that flight. Don't wanna imagine you having to squeeze onto the commuter train at rush hour."

She giggled. I can remember wondering to myself why it felt like this was the first nice thing someone has done for her in a while.

"How's Jennie, by the way?"

Silence for a little while, then the sound of rustling. I guessed it was her pulling the bedsheets over her body. "She's good. Thanks for asking." 

A heavy sigh came next, only it seemed to me like she didn't intend for me to hear that.

"I should go," she concluded. "Early morning tomorrow."

"OK, sure. Looking forward to seeing you."

"Thank you again."

The line disconnected, and only then had I bothered to take note of my surroundings. The rain had relented, and the puddles that had collected on the concrete were glimmering as the low-hanging sun spread the last of its rays before it was to dip under the horizon. I could only imagine what else had changed in the world since I dozed off.

* * *

The next morning, I helped Lisa put her rolling suitcase into the trunk of the Aston Martin. She was dressed for travel: plain black yoga pants against white trainers on her feet. She greeted me at the arrivals terminal with my navy suit jacket draped around her shoulders ("Korean Air has the worst blankets," she said). The family car had an adequately working heater, though, so when she stepped inside, she removed the jacket to reveal a white crop top with the classic Adidas "trefoil" logo set in black. I was glad I picked out a similarly casual outfit of denim carpenter trousers, yellow round toe boots, and dark jean jacket with plain white T underneath. Her hair was a strikingly xanthous shade of orange. If I had to guess, the inspiration was Hayley Williams circa 2013.

I asked whether she had any plans, to which her response was "Sleep. For the rest of my life."

The cabin of the Aston Martin was engaged in a gentle rocking motion as the vehicle sped along the Higashi Kanto Expressway. This, coupled with the third movement of Janacek's "Sinfonietta" playing softly from the stereo, put her on the fast track of her sleep initiative. Her head came tantalizingly close to resting on my shoulder, that is until my phone began to ring.

I glanced at her apologetically before answering. "Hello?"

"Jungkook, so sorry to bother you." It was Lorelei. "I know you have plans, but I really don't know who else to call."

* * *

Our ride needed to take a detour. I offered for the driver to continue taking Lisa home and I just get into another taxi, but Lisa said she wanted to see how she could help as well. On the way back to my dad's flat in Roppongi, Lorelei told me how the previous evening, the Tatsuya boy that Mads had pointed out to me asked her to meet him in the walk-in closet of the master bedroom. When Mads got there, she was greeted by Chihiro and a few other girls, who held her down while cutting off her ponytail with kitchen scissors.

"Where's my dad?" I asked Lorelei upon stepping into the apartment.

"He's still in Singapore," she reported. "She hasn't left her room since last night."

I tried announcing my presence to Mads, that everything could still be OK if she'd just talk to me, but true to Lorelei's word, the door still wouldn't budge, not a whisper to be witnessed from the other side.

"Let me try," Lisa eventually offered. She gingerly approached Mads' room and introduced herself. "I'm Jungkook's friend. Everyone just wants you to feel better." She spoke in a soothing and dulcet tone, but still with enough impact to leave no doubt in your mind that she can save you. Come to think of it, this was exactly the same way she sang. "Would you be OK to just tell me what happened? And I can see how you're doing now?"

The lock clicked from the other side of that door, allowing Lisa to ease it open at last.

"Give it some time," Lisa instructed Lorelei and me before taking the next pensive steps into Mads' room.

"Some time" turned out to be about 10 minutes. Then it was Mads, a beanie pulled taut over her head, who walked through the door first. She still couldn't bear to look up at her mother and me.

Lisa followed from behind not long after. "Go ahead and wash up," she beckoned Mads. "We'll leave in about 5 minutes."

Mads gave a short sniffle and then rushed to the bathroom.

"What'd you say to her?" I asked Lisa.

"Looking good is the best revenge," was her explanation.

"What is that, _Art of War_?"

"Tony Curtis, I believe," Lorelei chimed in.

"I'm told there's an Amex Black Card somewhere here," Lisa stated.

"Yes, anything you need," Lorelei said as she hurried to retrieve said asset from the office.

Lisa turned to me next. "Like I said, we leave in 5."

"Should I be worried?" I asked tentatively.

"For that Tatsuya guy? You bet."

* * *

I felt fortunate to meet Mr. Jimin Park because coincidentally I had just been wondering what it would be like if both Truman Capote and Andy Warhol resurrected and managed to have a baby. Jimin strode into his hair salon, the decor of the facilities resembling what M. C. Escher would come up with after you made him do the Mad Tea Party ride at Disney World for eight hours straight. Jimin was adorned in a mink coat, flared jeans, Gucci web detail loafers, and lambskin pointed collar shirt jacket (the material of a jacket but the design of a shirt, it was wild).

Walking up to Lisa, he gave two light pecks on her cheeks, which actually conjured up some jealousy in me because it seemed like everyone was getting more action than me.

"Lisa." He stared at her through the lenses of his rose gold aviator shades. "Aren't you a vision as always."

Lisa played it down but beamed a proud grin at him. "I look like mass transit."

"True beauty is not obscured by worldly trifles." He shrugged off his coat, which one of his underlings dressed in a black turtleneck scampered up behind him to catch before it could touch the floor. "I understand you're bringing me a new ward today." 

Jimin then lowered his sunglasses to give me a look of mischief, the same he might make if he had just peed in the same hot tub I was about to step into.

"Oh, my my my..." He stepped up and grasped me under the chin with his cupped hand, which bore no fewer than six glittering rings distributed across his five fingers. "You are the proverbial unmolded ball of clay, aren't you?" 

"Excuse me?" I replied with no small measure of trepidation.

"No matter. Just as the existence of the gracefully opulent monarch butterfly must begin as a lowly larva, spreading his belly across the filth and grime of the underbrush, so too shall you be spurred on to your metamorphosis, on your way to the splendor that is rightfully intended."

"What? No, I'm not the one getting the haircut."

"Oh," Jimin remarked dryly. He released his hold on my face, and another lackey in a black turtleneck came over to spray some antiseptic onto his hand. "Away with you, plebian." He waved me aside with a flourish,

I whispered to Lisa, "What's he talking about? I'm a larva?"

"Shut up, this isn't about you," she replied.

Jimin looked straight at Mads. "It's you then?"

Mads swallowed a lump in her throat before lowering her head in a tiny nod.

"Off with it," Jimin pointed at her beanie. "We've scarcely time to waste."

Mads reticently tugged it off her head, revealing a jagged fray where Chihiro and her gang had hacked off her hair.

"Mhmm." Jimin now fully removed the sunglasses from his face and tucked them into the breast pocket of his kinda-shirt, kinda-jacket. "My dear, I understand why you're seeking my help now. But I will tell you the same thing I said to my father the day I revealed I had skipped baseball tryouts in order to accept the post of cosmetology technician for my school production of _Godspell_ : 'Papa, there are no mistakes. Only opportunities for perfection.'" 

He shouted behind him to the team of more sidekicks who had amassed along the wings of his establishment. "Aoki-san!" 

" _Hai!_ " came the response from another flunky in a black turtleneck.

"Make me a hair mask of one part avocado to two parts egg yolk. Drip in honey and coconut oil before mixing. Save the whites for my omelet in the morning."

Aoki scampered away.

"Nakamura-san!" Jimin called out again.

" _Hai!_ "

"Sharpen the Hattori Hanzo shears using the pumice stone made from New Zealand volcanic ash."

Nakamura scampered away.

"Kimura-san!" Jimin beckoned once more.

" _Hai!_ "

"Get me a caffe breve with pistachio whipped cream and dark chocolate shavings." Jimin made special emphasis of his next point by turning to stare directly at Kimura. "Make sure it's very light on the foam. Foam makes me gassy."

Kimura scampered off.

Jimin clapped his hands theatrically (as if he had any other setting for doing anything). "We work now! The air is positively rife with the smell of possibility!"

"That, or too much foam in his latte this morning," I said with a snicker.

Lisa shook her head. "God, you're immature."

Jimin may have had his tendencies toward the dramatic, but having watched him work, I'd have to concede his idiosyncrasies were in a way earned. He worked his way around Mads' locks with a shockingly deft hand, making it look as easy as cutting stencils out of construction paper. I imagine it'll be the closest I ever come to watching Edward Scissorhands operate live.

By the time he was done, Mads' hairdo had been remolded into an inverted bob. As a concluding touch, he shaped out some layers with a razor to give a more relaxed look.

Jimin then brought out some color swatches so Mads could decide on what she wanted for her dye job. In the end, she refused all the options initially presented and instead pointed straight at Lisa. Surely enough, Mads was eventually sporting an orange hue just like Lisa.

Lisa was giving some pointers to Mads about maintaining the color while I settled the bill with Jimin.

"What do I owe you?" I asked.

He handed me an invoice printed on card stock and spritzed with fragrance of sandalwood. Looking over the figure, I had to do a double take out of suspicion that the decimal point had somehow been misplaced.

"This is like a lease payment for a Bentley," I pointed out.

"The next time Joan Rivers compliments anyone on their car, you can get back to me."

"Joan Rivers is dead."

"For your information, she didn't die. She just went home."

I handed over my dad's credit card in exasperation. "Whatever. Just get me a receipt on your way back from the mothership."

Lisa scowled at me, clearly not appreciating my humor.

The haircut turned out to be just the introductory step, as it's the clothes that make the man, or rather, teenage girl in this case. To this end, Lisa picked out a black short-sleeved crepe dress with rounded Peter Pan collar and A-line skirt. The neckline was accented with a flouncy decorative bow. To this she added a pair of Nappa leather pumps with a mid-height heel. 

Even so, just looking great didn't end up being enough, as one final flourish was needed in this quest of vengeance. Having used Tatsuya's social media feed to extrapolate his schedule for basketball practice, Mads knew he'd be at his school gymnasium this afternoon. She marched into the confines of his school with the dual purpose of 1) flaunting her makeover and 2) throwing a tapioca drink from Lotteria into his face. He wiped away the sticky liquid from his eyes just in time to see her blow him a kiss and throw up the middle finger. The rest of his teammates whooped and hollered, which in the universal language of pubescent boys translated into "You done fucked it up."

The whole ordeal must've taken a great deal out of her, as Mads fell asleep during the ride back home. I carried her from the car to the elevator, then from there to her bedroom, setting her gently onto her mattress afterward. 

Lorelei offered to order us some dinner, but Lisa insisted she just wanted to finally catch up on some rest.

"Congrats," I told her once we were back in the car. "You got a Mini-Me now."

"Madelaine's great all on her own," Lisa pointed out. "She's just as wonderful as you described."

"She'll be lucky if she grows up like you."

She let out a delighted giggle. To my surprise, she casually snuggled her body against my arm, her weary head finding its resting place against my shoulder at last.

But as is the case with most good things, it wasn't meant to last. This time it was Lisa's phone that started ringing. She answered and was promptly blasted with a frenetic squawking, the cadence of which could only belong to Rosé. 

"Slow down, honey," Lisa exhorted. "Don't want you to catch anything on fire with all those sparks shooting off your tongue."

From what Lisa could gather, this was intended to be Rosé's last night in Japan, but Namjoon couldn't bear to say goodbye and had proposed to her. Now they were planning to "go ape" all across town and wanted Lisa and me to join them.

"I have a feeling they could really use adult supervision," Lisa concluded, never mind the fact that Namjoon and Rosé were both older than either of us

* * *

The night started innocently enough. Lisa and I arrived in Rosé's suite at the Four Seasons to find she and Namjoon raiding the minibar. But as the night wore on, the party seemed to grow in scope. As more and more well-wishers started to amass, the crew had to start hopping to progressively larger and grander spaces to accommodate the swelling numbers. 

By the time we had completed a game of Around the World in the basement level of A-Life nightclub in Nishi-Azabu, Lisa had already started succumbing to the fatigue in a major way. During the cab ride to V2 Tokyo, she was fighting a losing battle to keep her eyelids raised, and her limbs felt leaden as she leaned further and further into me. Before we disembarked, I announced to Rosé and Namjoon (she sitting on his lap in the passenger seat) that I'd just be taking Lisa home. The soon to be newlyweds thanked me for my diligence this evening, but at the same time it didn't seem like they'd be letting up anytime soon.

I remembered Lisa's address for her place in Shirokanedai, but she had somehow maintained enough awareness to catch me giving those directions to the driver. Instead, she called out to me meekly, without so much as opening her eyes.

"I'd rather stay with you."

* * *

I daintily cradled her body in my arms, carrying her past the threshold of my apartment unit. I wasn't sure why I felt compelled to make good on her request anyway. She seemed so sound asleep, I doubt she would've noticed if I had just taken her home anyway. Still, I felt glad to have her here.

I set her down atop my bed, finding it a bit ironic the only other person to have slept there was Victoria. I could only hope it'd serve a platonic purpose well enough.

I saw her curl up into a tighter fetal position, so I guessed she might've been feeling cold. I scrounged up an extra blanket from the deep recesses of my closet and even put it over the space heater for a few minutes just to get it warmed up a bit more. I placed it over Lisa's still figure. I thought I'd heard her sigh in contentment. 

Genuinely hoping I'd done all I could to make her comfortable, I lay down on the other side of the mattress, trying to give as much space between us as possible.

My eyes had just shut when I felt this subtle shifting of weight beside me. When I caught sight of her again, she had rolled over to place herself right next to me and was propping herself up on one arm. She gazed down at me, and though her eyes were drawn close to mine, I couldn't exactly make out the surefire signs of complete cognizance. Her face wore the same singular expression of mute stoicism. I couldn't tell if she was actively trying to hide something from me, or maybe she had just been too exhausted to show much emotion.

The wondrous light of the full moon poured in unabated through my window and set her lovely pale skin aglow. 

Without breaking her stare, she deliberately yet delicately straddled her shapely legs across my lap. She grabbed two handfuls of my T-shirt and pulled me up into seated position.

Both arms were folded around the back of my neck, with just enough pressure to communicate the surety of what it was she was wanting. Her ruby lips parted, and she released a deliberate, measured breath, the warmth caressing my flushed cheeks.

I'm sure she must've advanced toward me next, but my recollection of this moment has always existed in two distinct phases. I have one memory of our lips separate from one another’s. The immediate next memory is that of our mouths joined together, her tongue slipping against mine and leaving the flavor of cherry vodka in its wake. The transition between the two stages is a detail that's always escaped me.

Something else I recall is how I grew completely and perfectly erect. As she felt me nudge up against her, she released a tiny whimper into my mouth, her voice carrying a slight quiver. I grasped more tightly at her slender waist out of apparent frustration at the meager bits of fabric that obstructed myself from her. My imagination bounded away, and I wondered how lovely and tight she'd feel around me. 

She put more of her weight on me until I reclined back to lying down. She may have drawn back on her kiss, unclasped her arms from around me, but she remained nestled close to my side, her head cradled in the crook of my arm.

My nerves had been set alight, and I thought I'd never be released from all the tension I was feeling. But once the initial surge of adrenaline was dumped, I crashed down into a deep sleep. As far as I knew, she remained next to me.


	5. Chapter 5

I woke gradually, little by little the consciousness creeping back into my limbs. Certainly what I first noticed was her absence. Before I even saw that she wasn't there, I had a sneaking sensation that I was missing a part of myself. A little bit of just about everything was feeling wrong without her next to me.

I planted my feet to the hardwood floor and took the pensive steps out of the bedroom. I saw her in the kitchen as she was using a spatula to move some eggs from the frying pan to a plate. 

"Hey," she greeted me quite warmly with this pleasant, wide smile. "Good morning."

It was a greeting I normally would've been so glad to receive, a greeting for the best of mornings. But it didn't feel right this morning.

"So glad you're up," she went on. "Have a seat."

I did as she asked and sat down at my simple dining table. She walked over from the stove and set down a plate of not only eggs sunny side up but also a few strips of bacon. The two eggs were eyes and the bacon was curled up into a smiley mouth. A little garnish of parsley acted as the nose. To be perfectly frank, I prefer my bacon more chewy, whereas she seemed to have cooked it pretty crispy. But there was no way for her to have known my preference ahead of time, so I could concede that it was a great breakfast prepared by a beautiful girl. And just for me.

"Oh, before I forget." She removed the milk from my refrigerator and poured me a tall glass.

I could tell what her tactic was. Pretend everything was still normal, offer me up something nice to feel pleased with, and hopefully I just take the easy way out and be happy with what was already here. 

I couldn't oblige. "Can we talk about last night?"

She didn't look up at me as she spread a napkin across her lap and started cutting into her eggs. "Do we have to? I was just tired and drunk."

"You were sleepy, not unconscious. Not possessed or anything like that." 

"It was just a stupid kiss," she pleaded.

"Will Jennie see it that way?"

She scoffed while throwing down her utensils on the table.

"Call me old-fashioned if you want," I continued, "But I just don't think that's fair to someone you say you care about."

She wordlessly crossed her arms in front of her chest.

I concluded, "If that's just how you treat people, I guess I can't stop you, but that makes me wonder if you're lying to me too."

Her expression contorted as it was clear the sobs were setting in. She placed her elbows on the tabletop and buried her face in her hands. Her breathing turned ragged, and her body began quaking. It made me wonder if I had been right to push her so hard. Once she was able to quell her tears, she looked up again. Her cheeks were flooded, and she exhaled a long, protracted breath.

"This always happens," she finally spoke again in a trembling voice. She stared away from me, blankly toward no place in particular. "I try to take even one step forward, to move on somehow..." She forced down the lump in her throat. "But I'm always at a standstill. There is no moving on."

"Moving on?" I pressed. "From what?"

She turned her eyes back towards me, a motion so gradual it seemed to take eons to complete. "Jennie won't care about the kiss," she would fatally declare. "She's gone."

* * *

She could only tell the story in stop and go spurts, never more than a few brief utterances at a time before the crying fits would interfere. I stretched my arm across the table to place my hand on hers, trying to give her some sort of anchor to her present, to the reality with me, so that she didn't go spiraling into irrevocable despair.

Eventually, she was able to recount the story of how Jennie was one of the first people she met upon moving to Korea. They bonded over both being foreigners, as Jennie had spent much of her formative years in Auckland. Jennie deserved most of the credit for Lisa's quick progress in learning English too, as the pair spent much of their free time binge watching old DVDs of _Alias_ starring Jennifer Garner.

"I'm gonna be just like Sydney Bristow," Jennie declared. "Call me Jennie Kim, Kickass Woman of Mystery."

"If you're a 'woman of mystery,' you probably shouldn't go announcing your identity like that," Lisa countered.

In the winters, they snuggled up closer to each other on train rides to school. Lisa started finding it adorable when Jennie would get chili paste on her chin while eating tteokbokki. She'd always be quick to wipe it away with a tissue, leaping at the chance to share a touch with Jennie, for any reason. Once she met Rosé and started spending more time with her, Lisa thought she could notice some twinges of jealousy in Jennie, and for some strange reason that possibility thrilled Lisa.

Lisa's mind often turned to contemplation of what to make of these thoughts. If she revealed these feelings, would that cause the dynamic with Jennie to become twisted or perverted somehow? Did she even have enough conviction in the clarity of these feelings to want to put them in the forefront? Did she feel comfortable enough living with these feelings to where others in her life would also be able to scrutinize and study them as part of her identity?

The life of a student was busy. Exams, homework, club activities, classroom cleaning, culture festivals, sports days, ceremonial performances. It was easy to compartmentalize all those points of personal confusion and tuck them away for later.

For Lisa and Jennie, later never came.

One weekend afternoon in March of their final year of high school, Jennie was waiting at Gangnam Station for the next train on the Shinbundang Line. Lisa had caught the flu and was bummed to be sick so near her birthday. Jennie went to this one food stall near the station to buy the special mandu dumplings that Lisa loved so much. 

Standing there on the platform, Jennie would notice a young boy suffering a seizure on the opposite side, and he fell onto the tracks. Witnesses described her as acting "without hesitation." She jumped down and lifted the boy up to safety. She, on the other hand, wasn't so fortunate. She couldn't climb her way out in time, and the oncoming train ran her over.

* * *

"Every time," Lisa went on, her voice having regained some of its steadiness, "Every single time I start feeling a little bit of _anything_ for anyone, I just start getting these thoughts. This little nagging in the back of my mind. 'You didn't act on it for Jennie, why should you now?'" She hung her head and clutched at the back with both hands. "How could I choose someone else over her? She gave her life for something so meaningful." She lifted her head again, letting her silky locks fall messily across her face. "What could I possibly do with my life that would compare? Have a couple kids? Drive an SUV? Buy a house with a white picket fence? It just wouldn't match up." Her expression was forlorn, drained of vitality. "Sometimes I think you were right. None of it matters. Not really. Even if you try to do everything right, it all can be taken away."

I gingerly placed my fingertips under her chin, redirecting her glance to me.

I posited to her, "You remember when we first met?"

The corners of her lips edged upward almost imperceptibly. I hoped this meant she was conjuring up some happy memories for herself. "Which part?"

"You told me to try to be happy. Try to use the chance that Seokjin was giving me."

In a sign of a small measure of life returning to her, she squeezed my hand a bit harder.

"Jennie sacrificed herself because she knew how valuable life can be. To have today, to have that chance of making things better, she understood how important it is for everyone to have." I reached up to swipe the loose strands of hair away from her eyes. "Including you."

A lone tear swelled up from out the corner of her eye. I ran my thumb along her cheek to wipe it away.

"I was wrong," I conceded. "It does matter. My life does matter."

I let go of her hand, but only long enough for me to rise from my chair and take the short walk around the table. I knelt down on the floor next to her, and she turned in her seat to face me straight on.

I continued, "It matters because I'm with you." I took both her hands in mine now. "I love so much about you. And I love so many moments with you."

She gazed back at me with dark, expectant eyes.

"Thanks." I stared right back at her. "You showed me what's still possible for my life."

She gently slipped her hands away, just so she could place them around my face. She gave me a delighted giggle and leaned forth, planting a kiss on me, a kiss which to me finally felt unfettered, unclouded by restraint or remorse. She moved down from her chair and joined me on the floor. Now seated across my lap again, her lips explored mine, her tongue explored mine, for no other reason or justification than this is what we most desired from each other.

Our mouths parted simply for the purpose of catching our breaths, but she took the chance to make a confession of her own. "I like you too." She pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. "A lot," she would add.

"You 'like' me?" I chuckled.

"So much," she clarified. "If I had to count the reasons..." She kissed my left cheek. "We'd be here all day." My right cheek now.

"I have all day," I insisted. "Tell me one."

She bit her lower lip in mischief. "Like when I was on top of you last night," she ran her slender index finger down my chest, "You practically turned into Stonehenge."

I had to laugh at that one. But I felt proud too.

"Tell me something," she said, "Did Victoria just walk around with a limp all the time?"

An even heartier laugh this time. And even more pride too.

"Like I said," I replied, "I haven't had any complaints."

"I'm sure." She took even stronger initiative to claim my lips for herself.

Now that I didn't have the same apprehension as from last night, I slipped my hands underneath her top and grasped at her breasts through the lacy fabric of her bra. Her mouth opened wide as she released an extended moan. She seized the hem of her shirt and swiftly tugged it over her head. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, but then there came an insistent knocking at my front door.

I shot a dirty look in the general direction of the noise. "It's probably just a Jehovah's Witness or something," I assured her. I moved to kiss her again, but again came the knocking on my door.

"Just go tell them to leave," Lisa encouraged me.

I was hesitant to leave her side, for fear of this situation being just a dream that would evaporate if I interrupted my perception of it. Lisa moved herself off me, and I got to my feet in order to walk to the door. Upon opening it, I was greeted by my dad's secretary, Sakura Horiuchi.

"Your father sent me to make sure you didn't forget," she commented dryly, presenting to me a navy suit jacket still on its hanger and wrapped in plastic. Meanwhile, she never broke eye contact with the phone she was relentlessly tapping at with her free hand.

It was upon taking the jacket from her that the realization hit my mind. "Fuck. The fundraiser."

"Driver will be here by 6:00. Mr. Jeon also requested that I help you pick out a matching tie." She blew by me and past the threshold. It was only when she tucked her phone away and laid eyes on her surroundings that she took notice of Lisa, still seated on the floor of my dining room, her white Adidas crop top pressed against her bare chest. "Oh my!" Horiuchi almost jumped out of her Jimmy Choos. 

Lisa addressed her ever so coolly. "Hello."

Horiuchi looked at Lisa in horror, then to me, then back to Lisa. "I came at a bad time?"

Lisa put on a devilish smirk for show. "Depending on what you're into, you might've come at the perfect time." She lifted her eyebrows suggestively.

"I..." Horiuchi stammered as she turned away her eyes immediately, now back to me. "I'll just leave the tie to you." She gave a bow which was so hurried she could've given herself whiplash. "So long."

With that, she rushed out the door. Lisa snickered, quite amused with herself.

"Well, at least she's gone," I remarked.

"Big plans tonight?" She pointed to my jacket.

"Yeah, my dad's company is holding this fundraiser. For cat leukemia or some shit."

"Cat leukemia?"

"Or maybe it's just the human kind." I held up the jacket. "I remember you said I should get a cheap jacket for the not-so-special occasions. Plus, I didn't know when you were coming back with my good one."

"Well," she said as she got to her feet, "I am back now with your good jacket, and I'd say tonight's occasion is special enough for you to wear it."

"What do you mean? I was just gonna cancel--"

"I realize now I completely lost my head and forgot all my principles. No chance in hell I'm giving it up before we have our first proper date."

Yep, I knew something bad was gonna happen if I answered that door. "Wh-what?"

"Also," she walked up to me and actually started speaking in a fairly serious tone, "It's important you support your father. Put on a good show for his image."

As little as I wanted to admit it, I knew she was right. Dad never asked all that much of me. I owed him the occasional favor. I could only nod back in affirmation.

"Good boy." She playfully patted my head. "I obviously need to pick up a new dress, some shoes, get in a shower. You at least should rub on some deodorant and comb your hair."

"Sure," I responded, rather noncommittally.

Sensing my lack of enthusiasm over the matter, Lisa offered up an alternative. "Fine," she announced with a sigh. "You can join me in the shower." She pulled me into her by my shirt and gave me a quick peck on the lips. "You can see what you've got to look forward to."

Not that I was having any problems with motivation when it came to her, mind you.

* * *

The shower ran way too short in my opinion, but that couldn't really be helped, as Lisa had to head to the nearby Takashimaya to choose an outfit. Her choice of shoes ended up being a pair of Badgley Mischka satin stiletto pumps with crystal embellishment at the back. She also settled on a white chiffon dress with flutter sleeves and pleated asymmetrical skirt which was long in the back and slanted shorter around the front.

She had just enough time to put on some modest makeup but wasn't able to dye her hair into a more traditional color. She instead dressed it up by tying it into a ponytail, secured with a Hermes scrunchie atop her head.

She looked beautiful without a doubt, and I was just starting to get my hopes up for the evening. At least I was until I saw who had been hired for the entertainment.

Upon that stage going over the last of sound check with the technician was Victoria. She was wearing her trustworthy little black dress, specifically the one of faille fabric with a short tulip skirt and notched scoopneck. 

"Let's not be rude," Lisa beckoned me with a mischievous smirk. "We'll just say a simple hello."

"Wait, what?"

Lisa strode over to Victoria. I believe Victoria is the taller girl, but Lisa's heels that night were slightly more raised (Victoria had to be standing the whole evening, after all), and so both were eye to eye at the moment. 

"Hi," Lisa broke the ice. "My name's Lisa." She motioned behind her to me. "Jungkook was kind enough to invite me tonight."

I still stood about a step behind Lisa, and I tried to give Victoria an expression which carried a message equivalent to "I know you're aware of where I live, but could you please not come over to stab me in my sleep?"

Victoria blinked inquisitively several times, but otherwise she didn't seem to miss a step. "It's so nice to meet you!" She was quick to give forth a radiant and cordial smile. "I'm Victoria, by the way, last year's model."

"I've heard of you before."

"He talks about me?"

"I found your picture in his suit jacket."

"Oh, he did the jacket thing with you?"

"You too?"

These two instantly became giddy once they realized they'd found a prime target for their new inside joke. Let me tell you there are scarce few experiences more agonizing than being on the outside of an inside joke.

"It's hilarious how serious he takes it," Victoria giggled with glee. "You'd think he was skinning his own back just to give you clothes."

Lisa guffawed in agreement. 

The only gesture I could make was to firmly plant face to palm.

Victoria went on, "And what do you think about him in bed?"

"Fuck's sake," I helplessly croaked.

"We haven't had the chance just yet," Lisa clarified.

"Ah, get a few nice evenings out of him first, that's smart."

"I deserve that much at least, right?"

"Completely," Victoria affirmed. "But let me tell you about this thing he does, with his two fingers up here and then the pinky."

"Somebody shoot me now," I quietly exhorted, to no one in particular.

"I always thought it felt a little weird," Victoria continued in her diatribe, "But god, does he get super focused into it. So I think it'd mean a lot to him if you could just talk him up. You know, go 'Oh baby, baby' a few times. That should really boost his confidence and improve his attitude the rest of the night."

"I'm gonna keep that in mind," Lisa concurred.

Perhaps Victoria had noticed then that I was starting to contemplate eating my own head in a bid to escape from this realm of shame, and that was why she finally deemed it appropriate to cut me a break. "OK, I think we've had our fair share of fun at Jungkook's expense."

"You're right." Lisa turned to me next. "I'm gonna excuse myself to the little girl's room. You two take a moment to catch up. After you're done, order me a glass of prosecco from the bar, OK?"

"Of course," I said, my face still arranged in a noticeable cringe.

Lisa couldn't stop smiling in amusement as she took her leave from us. I looked back at Victoria, who was still reveling in her own pleasure over the situation too.

"Sorry you had to find out like this," I finally spoke up.

Victoria fiddled with the string of pearls hanging from around her neck. "It's really OK. You don't owe anything to me. That was the whole point of our arrangement, right? Protect ourselves from getting disappointed with the other?"

I guess I'd never stopped to think about what the purpose of our "arrangement" supposedly was. But this explanation sounded fine. I definitely didn't want this news to bring hurt to her. "Sure."

"You deserve it, you know. To try for something that could actually matter to you. To have a chance with someone who might make you care. That's a _good_ thing. Caring is good."

I couldn't deny that I'd grown to care for Lisa very much. She had become what mattered most to me. And Victoria was right. To have this feeling that I perceived so clearly and knew with such certainty, that was no doubt a good thing for me.

"You're OK then?" I sought the final confirmation from her.

"I'll be fine."

I nodded back. There was one more thing I wanted to know about. "Have you decided about going back home?"

"Not yet."

"If you do, let's get a drink. The least I could do."

"You're on," she replied with a gentle smirk. "I've gotta finish up the sound check here."

"Right. You're working. Good luck tonight."

"Enjoy the show." She gave me a gentle squeeze on my arm and set back out on her duties.

I did as Lisa asked and secured her sparkling wine from the bartender. She returned from the restroom still lightly tittering to herself. By now I'd swallowed enough of my pride to appreciate the fact that she was finding some enjoyment at my expense. She accepted her drink from me with gratitude, and we set off to find the table that had been reserved for my family.

It was predictably one of the more front-and-center settings in the venue, what with my dad's high ranking in the company.

Lorelei greeted Lisa first. "You look amazing. And on short notice too? You have to fill me in on your secret."

Lisa flashed a sly glance over to me. "The right inspiration is everything."

Then there was the matter of my father. Jeon Si-hyuk is the kinda guy who looks like he left the womb in his three-piece Armani suit. In his life there were only two options for modes of existence. One is "staunch professional," and the other is "dead." I never could imagine him slurping noodles or lying in bed with a fever, blankets bundled all around him.

He extended a sturdy handshake to Lisa, his cufflinks catching the glint of the overhead chandelier. Lisa took his hand with utmost congeniality. 

"I understand you were of great help to Madelaine in her time of crisis," dad stated to her.

"I just did what I could to help a fellow lady in need. It wasn't so long ago when I was in her shoes," Lisa explained. 

"You have my genuine gratitude."

Lisa smiled back at him in her own appreciation. "How is she doing anyway?"

"She has some cousins visiting from California," Lorelei reported. "They went out to karaoke. That always cheers her up." 

"Great to hear." Lisa grinned with unbridled optimism at the news.

"Speaking of Mads," I looked more closely at my dad, "Are you gonna be able to make it to her audition for the Stanford program?"

"I'm having Sakura move some appointments around. It should work out all right."

Not exactly the most assuring sentiment, but I had gotten used to it being the best that I could get.

Lisa possibly could have picked up on my reticence, so she spoke up as well. "I have a great idea. Why don't I take us all for lunch before her audition? A nice little treat to get her spirits up for her big day. My stepfather's the chef at Blue Room. He can prepare us a special prix fixe menu." She addressed my dad directly next. "You wouldn't stand me up, would you?"

My dad chuckled silently to himself. He realized he most likely had just been cornered, but then again he had to respect the cunning that Lisa had just displayed. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," was his response.

Lisa gave me a quick wink.

We took our seats at the table, then the wait staff came to bring our plates of rabbit roulade with pesto stuffing.

"Do you want the dessert first?" I teased Lisa.

"It's fine," she responded with a bemused giggle.

* * *

Dessert turned out to be worth waiting for. It was a dark chocolate and black sesame molten lava cake with raspberry ice cream and caramel brittle. My dad and Lorelei had gone off to make chitchat with a few of the other company executives in attendance while Lisa and I shared our food. And by "shared" I mean she had eaten her serving so quickly, she started encroaching on mine. That much, I didn't mind. What proved to be a spot of bother was the languid trip hop intro that started to play for Victoria's next song.

"This goddamn song," I groaned.

"What's the matter?" Lisa asked.

"She knows I hate this song."

"Right, because the sole thought in the head of every woman on earth is what you like and don't like." She laughed sardonically.

I stuck my tongue out at her in defiance.

_"My tea's gone cold. I'm wondering why_

_I got out of bed at all."_

"Besides," she added, "I think you're missing the point here."

"Which is?"

"We've gone all this time, and you haven't asked me to dance."

I looked back at her in puzzlement. "You want to dance?"

I wasn't sure how she managed it, but her sarcasm factor jumped even higher. "Oh my god. That was just..." She theatrically clutched at her chest, "So fucking raw and emotional."

"All right, I just--"

"So much passion! My panties are absolutely drenched right now."

"You can stop."

"No, truly there is a waterfall between my legs."

"You done?"

And then, regaining her sense of seriousness, she implored, "Ask me like you mean it."

I took a deep breath, coming to terms that for this silly woman, it should be worth it. I cleared my throat, then started in again, "Lisa..."

"That is my name, great place to start."

"I think you are the most beautiful and charming and just overall wonderful person here tonight. I want everyone to see you for how incredible you are. I want them to be amazed by you, the same way I am. I want them to see how much you mean to me. That's why..." I rose to my feet and offered up my hand. "I'd feel so lucky to have this dance with you."

I think she was trying her best to keep a straight face, not wanting to reveal if my words could've had an impact on her. I thought I could make out the faintest twinkle in her eye anyway. With that, she placed her hand in mine, allowing me to lead her toward the center of the dance floor.

_"And I want to thank you_

_For giving me the best day of my life."_

I turned to face her. Placing a hand against the small of her back, I softly drew her close to me. I found it striking the way my body instinctively sought out hers. When we joined together, I felt my own mind coming to the stark realization of how much I had been missing her touch. But then also came the understanding of how profoundly glad I was to have her near me once again. My other hand cradled hers on the corresponding side. She draped her free arm around my shoulder, across my back.

_"And oh, just to be with you_

_Is having the best day of my life."_

As we swayed along to the music, our steps started falling into an easy harmony. For some reason, I had this sense of the rest of our selves, our thoughts, our feelings, our hopes, our dreams also synchronizing in effortless unison.

She laid her head against my chest. And she sighed in contentment.

We danced to a few other songs, luckily ones I enjoyed a bit more including "All About Us" from He Is We and Norah Jones' "Don't Know Why."

When Lisa commented that she was "starting to turn into a pumpkin," we decided to take our leave. Lisa wore my jacket around her shoulders as we approached the hall's exit. Before finally leaving, I glanced back at Victoria. She was at the bridge of "Nothing But a Miracle" by Diane Birch. She gave me this look, which had a stunning sense of finality to it. To this day I'm still chilled by its memory.

* * *

The next day, I found a note taped to my front door, along with the strip of purikura photos that Victoria and I had taken. The note featured her trademark elegantly sprawling penmanship. It read as follows:

"One day, I'll find someone who holds me like that. Then you and I will see each other again. Thanks for the memories."

She had taken the first flight back to America that morning. It would be a while before I'd see her again.


	6. Chapter 6

The lunch that Lisa had arranged for us was turning out as pleasantly as she had promised. Her stepdad Marco prepared this spectacular three course meal of seared scallops, braised Wagyu beef short ribs, and apple tarte tatin. Being already familiar with Lisa's proclivities, Marco had her dessert served first, which also compelled Mads to ask for the same. She'd been making a concerted effort to copy Lisa on quite a few things. In fact, Mads had even asked Lisa to play guitar during her audition later in the afternoon. I'll admit the fact that I was getting replaced stung me a little bit. For her part, as she recognized the more formal nature of the occasion, Lisa had changed her hair to a more conservative chestnut brown.

At least dad waited until the post-meal espresso before causing trouble. A notification sounded on his phone, and his expression turned progressively dour as he studied the contents of the alert. He excused himself to make a call, and the tension in his gait as he paced back and forth during that conversation told me everything I needed to know. 

When he returned to the table, I immediately had to say to him "Not today. Please."

"Madelaine's performance isn't until 4:00," he countered. "I can quickly take care of this, and I should make it there on time."

"Daddy..." Mads called out to him feebly, "You said..."

Lorelei couldn't meet his glance and simply crossed her arms and shook her head. I imagine she had already gotten familiar enough with him by now where she knew trying to confront him would only get her a screaming match for her trouble.

I got to my feet and walked up to him, getting into close quarters so he could understand the severity I was assigning to this. "Can't you get someone else to do it?" I pleaded. "I thought that was the whole point of being the boss."

"On the contrary," he stated firmly, "The point of being the boss is to take the ultimate responsibility."

"Go then." Lorelei waved him off, still not looking at him.

If my dad had felt any remorse over this, he chose to keep it hidden, which is to say it was the same way he handled all his emotions. He left his credit card on the table and took his leave of us.

I watched him retrieve his blazer from the coat check and disappear behind the sliding doors of the elevator. The sight of him disappearing from my life is one I'd gotten very accustomed to.

* * *

"I'm sorry, but we can't wait any longer," said one of the Stanford admissions recruiters, a middle-aged lady with bouffant hair, the creases in her suit pants sharp enough to cut sashimi.

"He'll be here any minute. His office isn't far," I tried to reason with her.

"All other students have already performed," was her rebuke. "Is Madelaine participating or not?"

Lisa knelt down in an attempt to look Mads in the eye. Mads, meanwhile, only intended to hang her head low.

"It's still a great opportunity," Lisa reminded her. "I think we should try." She tried placing a hand on Mads' shoulder.

"Leave me alone!" Mads slapped Lisa's hand away and nearly knocked her over. As Mads ran off down the hallway, Lorelei chased after her.

I too felt the need to escape from the scene. I couldn't know if anything would ever change, but what I was sure of is that I'd had enough.

* * *

In spite of Sakura's protests, I pushed open the doors to my dad's office. He was seated at his desk, upon which was scattered an assortment of documents. I didn't much care what on his computer screen had him so riveted, but I knew there was only one way to catch his attention. 

Stomping toward him, I snatched up the monitor and hurled it to the solid oak floor in front of the desk. A piercing crack rang out through the room. For good measure, I seized one of the golf clubs he kept in a carrier pouch beside his bookshelf and laid several solid blows down on top of the device, further busting open the guts of its circuitry.

I glowered at him as I drew heaving breaths and clutched the handle of the club even tighter.

"Should I..." Sakura stammered, "Should I call security?"

"Take the rest of the day off," my dad instructed plainly.

Sakura backed away warily and shut the door.

He, on the other hand, was ever unflappable as he addressed me, "You done with your show?"

I dropped the club to the floor. It landed with a hollow clatter. "'Don't Dream It's Over,'" I reported to him.

"What the hell are you going on about?"

"She knew it was your favorite song, and she was going to sing it." I swiped a rogue mat of hair away from my eyes. "But she didn't. Because you weren't there."

The man sighed hugely. "Get me the phone number for the Stanford people. I'll have Sakura extend their hotel rooms and rebook their flights. Madelaine will do her audition tomorrow."

"That's not the point," I insisted. "Life doesn't just happen only when you decide there's nothing else better for you to do!"

"What do you know about how life works?" He sprang up from his seat to glare at me from eye level. "You haven't done anything with your life. You don't take care of anyone. I'm the one who has built the world for both you and her!"

"Well, you shatter that world every time you let her down." I pointed an accusatory finger at him. "She is trying to speak to you," I declared. "Why aren't you listening? More than that, why aren't you CAPTIVATED by what she has to say?"

He turned away from me, walking toward his window overlooking the sprawling cityscape.

"I don't know what it's been with you, ever since Seokjin," I went on, although I had no assurance he was even paying attention. "I don't know if you're just scared that if you get close to your other children, you'll run the risk of losing them too. But let me tell you, that's already happening. You're already losing us."

I placed both hands against the sturdy dark cherry wood desk. My head felt light. My breathing turned ragged. 

"She's gonna slip away from you," I admonished him. "Believe me, the only thing worse than not being able to see someone, not being able to hold them, not being able to tell them how you feel..." I had to choke down an impending sob in order to finish. "The only thing worse is when the person is RIGHT THERE." I pounded my fist against the solid wood. "And you just don't do it."

He finally looked back toward me. Maybe he intended to make a rebuttal, but by then I was too drained to have any more to do with him. I turned away and fled the oppressive confines of the office building. The tangles of sterile steel and glass and chrome that made up this structure were threatening to choke me.

I don't remember anything about the trip to my apartment, how I got back there or what I saw along the way. What I remember is I found Lisa waiting for me. I couldn't help succumbing to the tears at that moment. I fell hunched over to the floor, and I felt her arms enclose me in her embrace. She held me the way I did when she told me about Jennie. I shuddered as the grief hit me in waves, but it was the sensation of her dainty body meeting mine which kept me secured to this world. She was all I cared about being real.

* * *

Mads had to go back to school eventually, and on her first day back, I wanted to walk with her to the classroom. I was initially thinking we had encountered a stroke of luck because Chihiro seemed to have been occupied in chitchat with some of her other minions.

Mads and I made our way to her desk. I took the composition notebook and her PuniLabo panda pencil case from her backpack. 

"You're gonna be fine," I assured her. "Just take it easy."

She nodded back to me, but her furrowed brow was a clear indication of her unease. And if there's one thing I knew about girls like Chihiro, it's that they know to strike you at your weakest.

Surely enough, Chihiro would call out to Mads before too long, "Sorry to say, Madelaine, I just don't think your new style suits you. Early 2000s Victoria Beckham wore it better."

The crew of sidekicks surrounding her desk started in their snickering fits.

"But don't worry," Chihiro continued as she raised her hand and made a cutting motion with her index and middle fingers, "I'd be glad to give you another makeover."

Now the herd of underlings incensed themselves into a frenzied bout of cackling.

I saw both of Mads' hands gripping extra hard at the edges of her desk. Her jaw grew massively tight. Before she could explode from her chair, I took it upon myself to walk over to Chihiro.

"That's funny," I told her, as contrived a smile as I could muster on my face. "You're the funny one here, right?"

"Yes, I'd say so," Chihiro shot back.

"Good, because I like jokes too. In fact, I'll tell you a joke right now. You ever hear the one about the desk that got thrown out the window?"

She regarded me with a cocked eyebrow. "What the hell?"

I seized her desk with both hands and abruptly lifted it up off the floor. This alone caused her to scoot back in her chair in fright. Some faint murmurs of concern broke out among the student body as I hauled the desk over to the window. Everyone broke out into a panic once I sent that thing flying through the glass, sharp shards bursting outward. It was only a few seconds more when the desk made a crash landing in the school courtyard, and the resonant din of wood and metal shattering against concrete rang out below.

I again approached Chihiro, who remained frozen in her seat, seemingly petrified.

"You didn't do anything to me, but I'm still plenty pissed off," I informed her. "You can imagine that she..." I pointed to Mads, who despite also being caught by surprise at my gesture, had by now managed to fix an unrelenting stare on Chihiro, "She has every reason to want your head on a platter."

Chihiro's eyes started darting around as her internal alarms must've started triggering.

I continued, "But I don't want her to make a fool of herself just for your sake. I'll be the one who gives you the first warning. After this, you fuck around at your own risk. Understand?"

"You're crazy. The both of you!" she spat.

"You haven't seen crazy yet. But go after her again if you really are so curious."

Her breathing got short, and she squirmed in her seat.

"Take care of yourself," I said to Mads, who responded with a resolute nod of her own.

I walked out of the classroom just before the homeroom teacher was arriving to greet his students. Predictably, said teacher would enter with an exclamation of "What happened here?" And then he called out to me, "Hey you!"

* * *

As a student, some of my more embarrassing memories at school were being sent to the principal's office. It turned out to be even more embarrassing ending up there as an adult. The security guard, a burly sack of muscle named Tamaru, was detaining me while presumably the appropriate parties decided what to do with me. And by "detaining me," I mean he was chewing Fusen bubble gum while reading the latest edition of Shonen Jump. Even so, given his immense stature, I didn't want to take any steps that would cause him to deactivate from casual mode.

I sat there tapping the sole of my Chuck Taylor high top sneakers against the linoleum floor. The clicking of stiletto heels eventually came from down the hallway, and surely enough Lisa came stepping through the door. On that day, she was wearing her hair in a sandy blonde.

"Thanks for coming," I told her as I got up from my chair. 

"Don't thank me just yet," was her reply.

Pretty soon I could see what she meant as my father also entered.

I scoffed at his presence in the room. "Of course."

"Your father is one of the most prominent donors to this school," Lisa explained. "They did him a favor this time on behalf of his well-intentioned yet brutish son."

"I may be an irredeemable prick," dad admitted, "But even I have my uses."

I cleared my throat, begrudgingly grumbled, "I appreciate it."

Lisa chimed in, "I think the two of you could do well with some private time." She addressed Tamaru, "Do you mind?"

Tamaru shrugged and blew another bubble with his gum. He closed his magazine and strutted out the room.

Lisa patted me softly on my back and stepped outside too.

One of my father's more reliable tactics when it came to his business was to make the other person take the first move. I had guessed he was trying that out on me as well. Truth be told, I realized very well I needed to concede my gratitude to him. There simply wasn't any denying how much he just helped me.

"Seriously," I tried to sound more sincere now that it was just the two of us, "You saved my ass. Thank you. Let me know what I can do to pay you back."

"Not sabotaging your stepsister's academic career would be a nice start."

"Yeah, I guess I went overboard there."

He laughed to himself. "As the responsible adult, I should be telling you, 'Yes, you absolutely did.'" 

"Well, don't be boring, tell me what you actually want to say."

He allowed himself a slightly heartier laugh. "In truth, all of us need someone to go overboard for our sake. To have faith in us unconditionally. To fight for us even against terrible odds."

"When did you come to that realization?"

"Sleeping on the couch for a week straight has provided me with plenty of free time."

I had to laugh now too. I can remember thinking to myself how crazy it felt. I couldn't recall the last time he and I laughed together.

He carried on, "Ideally it is the father who plays that role for his children. But I know I haven't been the most ideal in my role."

I couldn't argue much against that, but I felt it important for him to understand what actually was most needed. "She doesn't need you to be ideal. She just needs you to be there. She can accept you as you are. As long as you're there."

He smiled at me. I guess he must've found comfort in the fact that he could indeed be enough and do enough to make a positive impact on those he cares for. "The more I've considered it, the more clearly I realize that you've been the one playing that part for Madelaine. For that, I'm sincerely grateful."

"I'm proud to do it. She deserves it."

"Perhaps it should've been me throwing the desk out the window today."

I jested, "You'd break your back, old man."

"Watch your mouth," he jabbed right back. "I'm not too old to teach you a lesson."

"I'm surprised you aren't making Sakura do that for you too."

He let out a guffaw while giving me a playful shove against my arm. To me it felt like surely this is how things should've been all along. Who's to say how things would've turned out differently if it weren't for Seokjin, if it weren't for my mother? The more time goes by, the more I think Lisa was right. The questions about why we had to lose this or that, why these things had to happen, what purpose any of it served, those aren't for us to ask. If we think more about how we can "be happy regardless," that must be how we come to the right path for ourselves.

My dad and I exited into the corridor. Before he was to leave, he took some time to drop a piece of advice for me. "This girl..." He gestured to Lisa, who was waiting near the window overlooking the school quad. "She believes in you. Beyond all sense of good reason, she believes in you."

The corners of her mouth curled up into a gentle smile.

My father went on, "Do your best not to prove her wrong."

I gave him a firm nod. "Yes, sir."

"A pleasure as always, Lisa," dad said to her.

She flashed him a winning grin, and then he marched his way down the hall, down the stairs to disappear from view.

Looking back to Lisa, I felt the urge to confirm with her myself. "Is it true? That you believe in me?"

She casually stepped closer to me, taking hold of both my wrists and guiding my arms to wrap behind the small of her back.

Looking earnestly straight at me, she confessed, "You've given me so much to believe in about myself. You've given me so many reasons to believe in my life." She cupped her soft hand around my warm cheek. "I believe in you above the whole world."

With that sentiment, my confidence was bolstered to where I felt like I could've achieved anything. The limits to what my life could be, what I could do with my life, were vanishing, replaced with infinite possibilities. And yet, all I could think of wanting was merely to kiss her. So why not? I tucked my hand behind the back of her neck and ushered her lips to mine, all the while the warm rays of the late morning sun beamed at us.

* * *

**Next year, March**

"The next station is Gangnam. Gangnam Station is the next stop." The announcement rang throughout the train.

At these seemingly innocuous words, Lisa squeezed my hand just slightly tighter. This would be her first time disembarking at Gangnam Station since Jennie's death. But Namjoon and Rosé's wedding was taking place today at a venue very close to here, so Lisa decided that now was the time to take this final step in moving on.

Along the way, we had actually bumped into pachinko lady from Prague. She was wearing a no. 5 Hammarby jersey. I asked her what she was doing here in Korea, to which she replied, "Still trying to get home. It's taking a lot longer than I planned."

She seemed glad for Lisa and me as a couple and briefly wished us luck while getting off at the stop near Baekseok Arts University.

The doors to the train whooshed open, and we were greeted by the usual hubbub indicative of the nation's busiest station: commuter chatter, endless marching of countless feet against the tile floor, commercials droning from various glittering displays. Drawing a resolute breath, Lisa stretched out one foot and gingerly placed it onto the platform. I guessed she must've been taking a split second to confirm that the ground beneath her was indeed solid enough, and then she followed with the other foot soon thereafter. Taking a moment to study her surroundings, she seemed to come to the conclusion that this place could be just like any other. I hoped she felt as I did, that together we could go anywhere, face whatever, as long as we could do it together.

As we walked further through the station, I could see her posture growing stronger, each step landing more firmly, her breathing becoming more regular. Her hair, which she had since cut shorter to shoulder length and dyed a raven black, swished gracefully around her face. She was still finding new ways to amaze me with how beautiful she could look.

We came across a souvenir shop, and Lisa recalled that she wanted to buy some soju for Marco and a traditional hanbok doll for her mother. In the meantime, she asked me to get us a couple of Americanos from the Starbucks next door. She stepped into the shop and I made the order. 

While waiting for the barista to mix up the drinks, I noticed a nondescript stall selling flowers down the way. It was occupied by a young woman of slight frame. Her long auburn hair was woven into a braid that ran behind her back. She wore a knee-length dress the color of orchids, along with a red bolero jacket and brown patent leather ballet flats.

I walked up to her shop and greeted her with " _Annyeonghaseyo_."

She repeated the greeting but was quick to add, "Sorry, is English OK? I just came back to Korea, and I'm still a bit rusty on the language."

"Oh, sure, English is fine."

She smiled in gratitude. "Flowers for your sweetheart?" She gestured to the selection of bouquets displayed behind her.

"Yeah, why not? I don't know much about this, though, so what do you recommend?"

"My favorite has always been the lily." She brought to me a bundle of stargazer lilies in a strikingly intense red hue. "Flowers are a language all their own," she explained. "The lily says, 'I dare you to love me.'"

"OK, great. That sounds like it'd be nice."

She offered up a knowing grin. 

As she set about trimming the flowers and wrapping them in ribbon and paper, I opted for some small talk. "Your accent, you've been living in Australia?"

"Close. New Zealand."

"Is it as much like Lord of the Rings as all the tourism videos claim?"

"The people are generally a bit taller and less hairy, but it's still a beautiful place."

She swiftly finished her work and proudly presented me the completed bouquet.

"What do I owe you?" I asked.

"No worries. It's on the house."

I tilted my head quizzically. "You sure?"

"She deserves it," the woman stated.

I blinked a few times, eventually coming to the realization that yeah, Lisa totally did. "Thanks." 

She bid me farewell with a cordial smile. "Have a great day."

I took the flowers with one hand and turned to make my way back to the Starbucks.

The coffees were done by the time I got there, and Lisa had finished her shopping too.

I held up the flowers to her, and she exclaimed in delight, "Lilies are my favorite! How'd you know?"

"Actually, it was..." I pointed over to the direction of the flower shop. Now it was empty. No flowers at all were on display, and the woman from before was gone. "What?" I remarked to myself. "How did..."

"Are you OK?" she gazed back at me expectantly.

I realized that life was sure to have in store many more mysteries, tons more points of confusion. But one thing I couldn't ever lose sight of is the way I feel for her. That much will always be there for me to know, to be sure of. Eventually I can come to understand life and understand the world, since she is my life and my world. So when she asks if I'm OK, yeah. For the first time in forever, I felt like I would be.

* * *

Something else she wanted to do while in Korea was make a visit to Jennie's grave. Lisa told me that every few months, she'd come to sweep up the area around the headstone, maybe put down some orchids. This time, with me, she wanted to leave behind a letter. She read it aloud with me standing beside her. After so many years, the words still come back to me very clearly.

> **Jennie,**
> 
> **I'm sorry.**
> 
> **I'm not apologizing for missing you. I'm not apologizing for wishing you were still here. I'm not apologizing for wanting to look in your eyes, to laugh with you, sometimes I even found myself wanting to kiss you.**
> 
> **But I should say I'm sorry because for so many years, I was defining my life based on what I'd lost. It left me crippled, unable and not even wanting to move forward. I'm sure you wouldn't have wanted that for me.**
> 
> **It's taken me all this time to finally learn this, but I feel I now understand. Grief doesn't have to exist as the opposite of happiness. Loneliness doesn't have to exist as the opposite of love. All these can exist together as simply life itself.**
> 
> **We can lose so much. We can lose lovers, siblings, children, parents. We can lose our sense of self. We can lose our self-worth. We can lose our way.**
> 
> **And yet, the world is so big. The possibilities for life are endless. We can lose everything, everyone, and there still remains all this hope.**
> 
> **There still remains so much left for us to fight for, so much left to live for.**
> 
> **There's so much left to gain. So much left to love.**
> 
> **Yours always,**
> 
> **Lisa**

She placed the paper beneath a sturdy stone to fix it at the base of this memorial for her fallen friend. Lisa took my hand, and together we left this place of mourning for what we've had to leave behind. We set off on a course toward everything we could still love.


End file.
